Lovino's Misadventures in Wonderland
by Apocalyptic Lore
Summary: Lovino Vargas makes the mistake of following a pasta-loving White Rabbit down a hole, and finds himself in the most peculiar of places... Very loosely based on the classic, "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland". COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: To give me a humorous break from my more serious Hetalia fic "Celeste Mosaique", I've decided to write a little parody following the stories of both "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and the animated Disney adaptation "Alice in Wonderland". Yes, this will be Hetalia-style, and many of the little parts won't directly follow the original work of literature nor the movie. Human names are used.

Disclaimer: I own neither Axis Powers Hetalia nor the story of Alice and her Wonderland.

Enjoy!

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Tranquility. Such was the phrase often used to describe the desires of a drowsy young man, sleep-deprived and desperate for a moment of peaceful bliss. Many would describe such serenity as lying below the comforting shade of a great oak tree, a gentle breeze disheveling their wispy locks of hair in a playful tease as their eyelids shut softly and their breathing regulated. Indeed, such a scene would be considered by many as being a paradise like no other.

But, alas, such a paradise is often short-lived.

Lovino Vargas leaned against said oak tree, a genuinely irked façade plastered onto his face like a theater mask. A rather violent wind blew against his face ruthlessly, early spring chill nipping mercilessly at his pink cheeks and sending a thread of goose bumps along his body. The cruel-hearted gusts whipped his dark auburn hair in every which direction, leaving it in a particularly unkempt state. His amber eyes were, in fact, shut, but much too tightly for any real ease, as the cool weather made them water uncontrollably.

Cursing under his breath, the Italian man reopened his eyes, blinking the dreariness from them in exhaustion. He had fallen asleep for a few hours, back at his estate, and had taken comfort in the warm embrace of his mattress. Upon reawakening, he found himself in a field, unfamiliar to the young man, with a heavy weight pressing him further down into the itchy tickles of the grass below. Additional comprehension proved another _slightly_ important fact.

Lovino Vargas was garbed in an old, somewhat worn dress, frilly and, above all, femininely British. He sat in stunned silence for a few meager moments, a mild look of perplexity replacing the frown that had appeared earlier. Glancing downward ever-so-slightly, he happened to notice a single tag dangling from the inside fabrics of the outfit, making out the faintest hand-written message imprinted on the cloth.

_Property of Francis Bonnefoy_

"Damned bastard!" Lovino swore aloud, hands balled up into fists at the peculiar glances he was receiving from the surrounding civilians. If Francis had indeed stuck him in a dress (which would have involved some undressing, a thought the Italian wished to block out for the moment), then his actual location was even more unknown than he had previously suspected. With a sudden dread striking him like a crude slap in the face, Lovino rose to his feet hurriedly, frantically searching around for his own, comparatively manlier clothes with no such luck. His face continued to redden at the sight of yet another woman shooting him a horrified look, shouting out loud virtually any profane phrases that popped into his head. A few parents beckoned their children away, shielding their ears and leaving the seemingly-maniacal man alone in the field.

"I've _got_ to get out of this dress..." he muttered in agony, voice slightly hoarse from the persistent yelling. Grimacing at the tight fabrics that hugged his masculine figure in all the wrong ways, he proceeded to wander around aimlessly, discovering that his location must have been a local park of some sort... though where "local" was remained a mystery. _Why can't things ever go my way? All I want is a place to call my own, where I don't have to worry about some wine-bastard stripping me in my sleep!_"Argh... where am I? There's not a damned commoner anywhere around here! Isn't there anyone who can tell me where the hell I am?!"

As if in direct response to this rhetorical question spoken aloud, a soft rustling erupted from behind the shrubbery, catching the Italian man by ultimate surprise. Emitting a shriek which appropriately matched the clothing he wore, Lovino stumbled backwards, caught up in his dress as he plummeted to the ground, bumping his rear on the hard dirt of the ground. "W-Who's there?" he demanded, voice trembling out of its normal tone. Both defensively and considerably foolishly, he lifted the object closest to him, which happened to be a rotting twig, and held it up in resistance, eyeing the rattling bush before him.

What should appear, hopping about wildly from behind the veil of bushes, but a white rabbit, ears flopping about in a childish manner? Lovino did a double take, vigorously rubbing at his eyes with the back of his palm at the peculiar sight; for, in all honesty, this rabbit greatly resembled his younger brother, Feliciano, in floppy white ears, bunny feet slippers, and a cotton ball tail taped to his rear. The "rabbit" was clothed in a simple scarlet-and-orange suit, and with the left ear hanging down in a lame position over the shoulder while the other stood erect and alert, he seemed, if possible, even more obscure.

And, yet, here was Feliciano the White Rabbit, standing before him without giving Lovino so much as a second glance before shouting in alarm. "Ve~!" he exclaimed, eyes wild and frantic as he nearly tripped over his rabbit's feet slippers in panicky tears. "I'm late! Oh no, Ludwig's going to get mad and yell at me! I hope he doesn't tell the royal family, they're all so scary! Oh, what am I going to do?" A pocket watch dangled limply from his white-gloved right hand, a slice of pepperoni pizza grasped in his left. Biting off a single, reluctant bite of his Italian snack, Feliciano gulped it down and inhaled deeply before rushing off at top speed, away from Lovino's spot on the ground.

The Southern Italian stood from his resting place on the ground and reached out a hand, finding it increasingly difficult to follow the surprisingly-swift movements of his rabbit-brother. "H-Hey, Feliciano! Come back!" But, alas, the rabbit either needed a hearing aid or was oblivious to all else in the surrounding environment upon which he had stepped foot. Groaning in frustration, Lovino smoothed down his periwinkle dress (and, really, couldn't Francis have picked a manlier color?) and hurried after the White Rabbit, a bit uneasy at his brother's odd antics and intentions. What was that Feliciano had babbled about? Something about being late and a royal family? As far as he knew, Feliciano wasn't acquainted with any sort of royalty, and he intended to keep it that way. Not to mention that his brother had mentioned Ludwig. Somehow, things weren't threading together, and Lovino had foolishly followed, willing to protect the rabbit-man from the wrath of the potato-bastard.

"I'm sorry, Ludwig!" Feliciano proclaimed to no one in particular, retaining his typical ignorance and naivety. Heart battering madly in his ribcage, Lovino continued to pursue his rabbit-brother deeper into the unfamiliar park, passing by a shimmering crystal pond, an intricate mosaic of lily pads patterned across the gleaming surface of the water. Eh, nature's beauty was never really his interest. He deliberately strode past the pond and into a dusty clearing, huffing wildly from the frantic chase.

"Damn it, Feliciano! Where are you?!" Lovino continued to swear under his breath, hunched over as he desperately attempted to catch his breath. Spying something out of the corner of his hazel eye, the young man straightened his posture to approach a glaring object, catching direct light from the glow of the sun above. _He dropped his pocketwatch…_ he thought, stuffing the item into the inner fold of his dress. Perhaps changing clothes would have to wait. Stealing a glance forward, the Southern Italian spotted a rather meager rabbit hole, agape for all to see (had there been any other people present). Surely the pasta-loving bunny couldn't squirm into such a miniscule opening in a ledge?

_Well, his business is none of mine…_ Lovino reassured himself, crossing his arms over the empty bosoms of the dress. _But, then again, if the potato-bastard is down there… Oh, Feliciano could be eating a wurst this very moment! I'm coming, you pain in the ass!_

Perhaps it was on sheer instinct… or maybe he was just jumping in without fully thinking through with the plan. The second possibility seems a bit more reasonable. Regardless, the cross-dressing man had crawled head-first into the hole, increasingly peeved by the dress which restrained his movement and had begun to ride up. Well, that, and he had only managed to get his front half in the opening in the first place. The remainder of his body, the bottom half, had gotten itself stuck… how convenient. Oh, how the Italian loved his luck in times like these!

He was exceedingly clueless about the exact amount of minutes, or hours, spent stuck with his buttocks and legs still hanging ridiculously outside the den. All Lovino was aware of was the discomfort of his outfit and the exceptional anxiety jolting through his body at the blatant darkness and stench of the hole in which he was stuck. "Hello?!" he had exclaimed, kicking his legs to and fro, disregarding the fact that he was in a dress and probably revealing much more to the world than it desired to see. "Damn it all, someone get me out of here!"

As if on cue, a drenching downpour began to plummet to the earth from the heavens above, moistening his lower half and soaking him to the bone in its chilly rainwater. More time was wasted in waiting, though the heavy batter of rain now added to his gloom. "I swear, if Feliciano isn't even _in_ this hole, I'm going to-"

Thankfully, though what seemed like an eternity had passed during his impatient waiting, Lovino could feel the water from the shower outside flood into the small opening, wetting his body enough to allow it to slip inside from the mouth of the den. At long last, he was un-stuck! Never again would the cowardly Italian stick his head somewhere smaller than the width of his non-existent hips!

Now, to track down his rabbit-brother. Scooting along on his stomach, Lovino shimmied further into the hole, mildly astounded by the depth of the den. He hadn't remembered the ledge going back so far. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him again? The young man grew increasingly thankful for his lack of claustrophobia as he took one final, overconfident scoot forward…

…And promptly plunged downward in the darkness of the reeking hole. This just wouldn't be his day, would it?

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A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope to continue updating pretty regularly… I mean, "Celeste Mosaique" is updated about every other day, so maybe I can write this in my free time in between! And this chapter was kind of short, so I hope to write a longer one next time. Consider this the prologue!

However, my rate of updating also depends on the popularity of this story.

If you will, please leave suggestions and commentary in a **review**. You have no idea how greatly I appreciate it. Even if it's a simple "this is humorous", it will be accepted with gratitude. Check out my other stories as well, and I hope to hear from you all soon!


	2. Chapter 2

"_Uwaaahh_~!" Lovino shrieked, fleshy scarlet cheeks blown back by the g-force of plunging down the abysmal pit. The Italian flailed his arms about wildly, frantically groping around for a ledge or branch of some sort to grab onto, though his task ended with no prevail. He continued to plummet, weighed down like a boulder by the extra load carried by the dress. Wait- the dress! Perhaps he could attempt to use said item to help him float down to the bottom… possibly like a parachute? It was certainly worth a try, assuming he would eventually descend to his ultimate doom on the rocky floor that surely existed below. He took in a sharp inhale, holding his breath as he braced himself, placing his lithe fingers just so on the ruffled edges and expanding his arms' breadth with what he hoped desperately to be the utmost precision. _Almost… almost-!_ He thought, smirking with success as he felt his pride swelling from within; surely his plan was beyond foolproof?

And Lovino promptly struck the solid ground below, hard, with a dull thud. "Oh, my head…" he groaned, rubbing at a swollen bump atop his head, flinching at the touch to his own tender flesh. Releasing a cry of exasperation, the man-in-a-dress tugged mercilessly at the fabrics clothed upon his body, though not a single bit of tugging seemed to undo their firm hold on his masculine figure."They just don't make these godforsaken things the way they used to! Ugh… now where'd Feliciano go?" Lovino stood up shakily from his spot, baffled as to how he had managed to survive such a lengthy nose-dive. His amber eyes blinked once, twice, before finally focusing in on a single, dim glow emitting from the distance. And, as if fate had played out in a way that was astonishingly favorable to the gruff Italian (for once), there strode the familiar shadow of his rabbit-brother, bouncing about in a hoppy frenzy.

"Ve~! I have to hurry!" sounded the obnoxious voice of his younger sibling, the shadow disappearing from behind the curve of the wall. Wasting absolutely no time (well, except to smooth out his garbs again), Lovino hastily staggered forward, legs much too unstable to support his somewhat dazed form, as his limbs were likely unwilling to proceed after his recent collision with the pleasurably stone-cold earth. Face contorting into an expression of defiant cowardice, the top half of his body toppled forward and made contact with the rocky soil once more.

For the briefest of moments, his fists clenched tight, body reluctant to move from pure fear of what was yet to come. Lovino Vargas was not, by anyone's standards, a daring man. To say the least, he was indisputably craven, a spineless coward with no true purpose in life. However, when it came to situations such as these, in which his long-eared brother could be endangered by the wurst-bastard, nothing would stand in his way. Puffing his chest out in mock bravery, Lovino dusted off his palms and rushed forward, stumbling once or twice before reaching his destination.

Or, at least, what he assumed was his destination. He soon came upon a quaint little room, covered from left to right by various doors of an intricate, olden style, clearly a wood of maple… a wood which appropriately accented the checkerboard flooring. "Alright…" he muttered aloud, voice slightly trembling in unease. "Chances are Feliciano is behind… _one_ of these doors." His mouth dried suddenly, gums entirely deprived of any form of moisture as his hands clammed up instead. "Easy, right?" Wrong. One by one, the Italian yanked and tugged before the doors, all but groveling at their wood in his desperate attempt to stop his brother from doing anything unsightly with Ludwig. Although, he had to admit, Feliciano had been acting incredibly peculiar… disregarding the fact that he was dressed like a bunny. Perhaps this Ludwig would be different, as well?

"Oh, damn it, Feliciano! Things can never just be simple with you, can they?" Sighing with exasperation, he slumped to the floor, leaning up against the leg of a table smack-dab in the center of the room. He placed his forehead in his mud-caked hands, smearing a bit of the grime onto his facial skin in his skulking. Surely there was _some_ way to get in? Not to mention that each door was much too petite for the lanky man to squeeze into. Come to think of it, his brother didn't differ much in height from himself… how had _he_ managed to get out of the enclosure? Feliciano, his_ idiotic_ brother? It all but blew his mind. Desperately wishing he had just wandered home, disregarding his brother's inexplicable actions and eating his midday snack of chopped tomatoes, the young man groaned in frustration, thwacking his head in aggravation against the leg of the table.

Wait- a table? That most certainly hadn't been there earlier. Foolishly allowing curiosity to get the better of him, Lovino scratched the back of his head absentmindedly and peered above the edge of the table from his spot on the floor, knees digging into the tile flooring below uncomfortably. The tabletop was relatively empty, as desolate as the rest of the room, though it did prop up two items; a golden key engraved with foreign symbols and a bottle filled with a liquid of some sort. Hanging loosely around said bottle was a large white sign, and upon its surface was written a single message.

_Drink me, baby!_

_What sort of perverted creep wrote that?_ he wondered, shaking his head incredulously. Despite his skepticism, Lovino reached forward and hesitantly removed the bottle from its spot on the tabletop, popping the cork top off and to the floor. Grimacing at its disturbingly-purple color, the Italian brought the vial up to his chapped lips, tipping his head back to allow it to trickle down his throat with more ease.

Well, if that wasn't god awful, he didn't particularly wish to find out what was. The taste of such an elixir was revolting to the point of nauseating, giving his stomach a quick churn as the last bit was swallowed hard. "Never again, Feliciano… I swear, the next time I see another rabbit-bastard, I'll- What?!" he cried, watching in a gawking awe as the world surrounding him began to expand, growing to an exceptionally colossal size. Or, perhaps, he was just shrinking; either way, something bizarre was going on, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Wh-What the hell-?" he stuttered, rubbing vigorously at his golden eyes, thinking it impossible for such a peculiar event to occur. "I must be dreaming… yes, that's it. This is all just a horrid nightmare… brought on by Francis and his unmentionable drugs, without a doubt… Oh, great, I forgot the damned key!" He smacked himself in the head, fury at himself welling up from within like an aroused flame. Indeed, gazing up in a dull melancholy from his spot on the floor, the key hung halfway off the table towering above, as if a mockery to his scattered mind. Why did life have such a cruel way of reminding him that his "good fortune" sucked?

_Now what…?_ He thought, aimlessly gazing around nonchalantly for another way out. His eyes fell upon a single box, once again not there previously, slightly ajar with yet another of those suggestive signs resting atop, connected by a single piece of masking tape.

_Bite me, bitch._

_Okay, now these are seriously getting out of hand! _Snorting in irritancy, Lovino flung the top of the container open entirely, revealing a single pastry, half-eaten and dripping with jelly from within its innards. Grimacing at its grueling appearance, he reluctantly tore off a bite-sized piece and forced it down his throat, swallowing without much consideration towards the taste. Hopefully, it would at least do _something_. Couldn't be much worse than his current state, right?

Within a few more seconds' time, Lovino Vargas was about fourteen feet taller, already-swollen head bumping crudely against the ceiling in an uncomfortable squeeze. "Oh, for crying out loud! What's going on? S-Stop!" But, alas, his growth spurt ceased to cease. "No! I don't wanna be any taller! Please, I'll do anything!" Now his nerves had begun to kick in, and the Italian found himself wailing as he continued to get pressed against the walls, cracking the plaster ever-so-slightly. "Stooop~!" he cried out, tears of terror streaking his pink cheeks and plummeting to the floor, soon flooding the room below.

"Oh!" exclaimed a familiarly-dumb voice form below. Feliciano floated aimlessly along the pool of tears, alarmed and panicky. "I sure hope I haven't kept his Highness waiting! He'll banish me, or worse, ve~! It'll be off with my-"

"F-Feliciano!" Lovino said sharply, though watched in dismay as his brother floated along the stream of saltwater tear droplets and out of sight.

_Damn… now what?_ The grumpy Italian sat in an awkward silence, chin propped on his knuckles for the next hour or so before the effects of the pastry began to wear off and he promptly reduced down to normal size once more. _Talk about sudden…_ he thought sarcastically, crossing his arms as he plunged into the river of rushing tears. Eh, he had grown rather used to falling by that point.

His lithe form, though weighed down even more-so than before due to the sopping dress, drifted along gently in the water, passing through the keyhole of one of the doors and out of that forsaken room. At long last, he was free… or perhaps not, as he still seemed trapped within this obscure world.

Wafting passed the Italian man's figure waded another being, a particularly irked-looking man with large, rounded ears atop his blonde head and a skinny tail curled daintily around his slight form. Said mouse-man attained the most peculiar of traits; striking emerald eyes and hair of gold, yet even these more attractable features could not avert Lovino's attention from the eyebrows shielding such irises, bushy and overly thick to the point of hilarity. Stifling a mocking laugh from behind shut lips, the man-in-dress swam towards this interesting fellow, prodding and poking the ever-amusing brows with a bored look on his face. "So… You stuck here too?"

The rodent said nothing, and, other than the slap on the hand rewarded to Lovino for touching him in such a way, made absolutely no acknowledgements of the other man's presence. "Can't you speak? What, not native in Italian or something? Do I need to speak English? Or am I speaking a universal language, here?" No reply. "Heh. Must be a French bastard, then. No other explana-"

And the mouse-man appropriately punched him hard in the face. "Never compare me to a French frog. I am Arthur Kirkland, a rodent of a great ancestry. You will do well to treat me with respect." Leaving the Italian to rub his sorely-scarlet jaw in pain, the English-accented mouse spun around wistfully and swam ahead, avoiding any more confrontations with such a rude man. Calling him a Frenchman… how despicable!

"Jeez, what a jackass… More like a rat than a mouse," Lovino grumbled, wiping the trickle of blood from his puffy lip. His gaze drifted out ahead, following the mouse's movements to try and conclude his next destination. Indeed, wherever he glanced, all that remained in his field of vision was the ever-graying sky above and the ruthless pummels of ocean water.

_Guess there's only one way to go…_ he thought, advancing forward. "And that's forward."

Or, at least, that was where his intended destination was; for it was in that moment of brief confidence that Lovino Vargas collided with a wave from behind and tumbled away, caught within the murderous grasp of the churning rapids.

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A/N: Like it? Don't like it? Input, please! Expect another chapter soon, assuming you all **review**!

UPDATE: For some unknown reason, I haven't been able to upload my documents. I have tried clearing out most of my documents, creating about five different documents on two different programs under different formats, and nothing is working. If anyone out there can help me, then PLEASE do so soon! I had to copy and paste this into one of my already-uploaded documents...


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, still!**

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The Italian man floated aimlessly along the whiplashing tide, sputtering as the brackish taste of saltwater flowed into his mouth. He knew not how long he drifted, nor exactly how far, as he continued to wade, dress beginning to sag uncomfortably from its sopping masses. _How did those English women get by in these?_ he asked himself, sighing in slight regret as he once again neared the Briton, who smoothly glided across the surface of the water on his back, dark emerald suit now dampened with the river's crying droplets. "Hey, you! Kirkland!" he called, approaching said rodent in curiosity. "Wait up, will you? Ugh… how far does this sea or river or whatever go?"

"I don't know, why not go ask a Frenchman?" he retorted sarcastically, eyes shut in both peaceful rest and intentional ignorance. "Honestly, how could you have mistaken me for such a vile race of people? Vulgar, perverted, two-faced lot, they are!"

"You're telling _me_…" he grumbled, gazing down momentarily at his clothing. "Look, I don't know if you have anything against Italians too, but you obviously know something about getting to land, and you're going to tell me."

"Oh, bugger off!" The Englishman spun around, preparing himself to swim rapidly away once more, but found it a rather difficult task as he stole a sidelong glance at the most unfortunate state of the Italian and sighed, pinching his index finger and thumb together in between his monstrous eyebrows. "Oh, fine. If you really must, you may follow me to land. But keep your trap shut about Frenchmen and Italians and whatnot."

Lovino nodded curtly, narrowing his eyes in slight distrust as he desperately swam ahead, despite the nagging of his garbs. _Would it _really_ be too indecent for me to just remove this thing and run around nude?_ he wondered, though soon thought better of it and made an attempt to stick beside the mouse-man. _Ah, jeez. I don't know how much more of this I can take… Why do these things always happen to me? Why did it have to be _my_ brother the bunny? Why couldn't he have just stayed home, eating pasta and doing whatever the hell else he does? How come he's the one who had to befriend that potato freak?_ They say that life is short, and that it was meant to be spent wisely, but how exactly can one spend their life happily if they were unfortunate enough to receive a short lifespan in the first place? Doesn't that basically mean that he was destined to be screwed anyhow?

Finally, following many strenuous minutes of paddling, he and Arthur came upon a shoreline, dusted with flecks of glistening white sand, much too tempting for the Italian to resist. Lovino dove forward from his spot in the sea and bounded into a towering pile of sand, both rejoicing at the sensation of prickly land against his flesh and groaning at the uncomfortable itch as the grains slipped through the neck hole of his clothing and down his body… not to mention the horribly-mingling flavors of saltwater and sand that forced themselves upon his tongue. Spitting out said blemishes on his mood, the cross-dressing man rose to his knees, straightening out his dress in a surprisingly feminine manner. _Ugh…_ Even the personality quirks that accompanied his clothing were beginning to drown his former psyche. He desired any sort of sanity, and quickly, lest he wish to lose both his manhood and his mind. "Hey, Brit! Where are we now?"

"For the last time," spoke the voice of the Englishmouse, sounding with full-out echo from behind him. The British rodent sat on the ground, arms and legs crossed in an utterly irked fashion, with his head held high in pride as he sneered at a lory, an Asian man with tied-back mocha-brow hair and a long bird beak over his mouth and nose. Colorful feathers, of indigoes, of crimsons, of golds, were tucked neatly behind one ear, also evident in larger quantities down at his lower half, in the back, acting as an avian tail. "You have no right to treat these fowl as though you are so further aged than them! Yao, you don't look any more or less ripened than I! How am I to believe such bullocks if you can't even tell me your real age?"

"What could you possibly know of my age, aru?" the lory replied, frowning at the rodent sitting before him. "I_ am_ this lot's older brother." Undeniably, as Lovino stole a single glance at his surroundings, there stood a few more Asian-bird-based beings, each slightly different than the rest.

"Oh, don't give me that load of rubbish! Lovino!" Arthur's sharp voice shattered the Italian's concentration, driving him to return his attention to the snappy mouse. "How old are you?"

Cocking an eyebrow, the femininely-dressed man hesitated ever-so-slightly before replying in a confused daze. "Um… About twenty-three?"

"…And I'm older than him too, aru," Yao muttered to himself, glancing away, bearing an unreadable expression. He soon returned his attention to the other aviaries, bickering about different means to dry themselves off.

Arthur merely groaned, palm meeting his face in perfect harmony regarding relations. "Alright, everyone! Sit down, sit down in a circle around me!" The fowl all obeyed obediently, soon followed by a reluctant and somewhat skeptical Lovino. The Englishman puffed out his chest briefly, staring each peculiar being down, as if awaiting someone to challenge him. Oh, how he cherished the short-lived thrills of authority! "You will all do well to sit and listen, if you really want to dry off! Ahem… William the Conqueror, whose cause was favored by the pope, was soon submitted to by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and Northumbria-"

"Ugh…" Yao and Lovino grunted simultaneously, each exchanging slightly agonized demeanors.

"I beg your pardon?" Arthur questioned, a threatening gleam stealing his emerald eyes as he approached the two who had so rudely interjected his fascinating history. "You'll do good to listen to this, believe you me! Moving on, then… Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even Stigand, the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable-"

"Hey, guys!" interrupted the eaglet, another Asian man with a beak and dull-shaded feathers. "Archbishops were invented by yours truly!"

"Oh, get over yourself…" Lovino mumbled, though soon regretted it at the stare he was receiving from the other bird-man.

"Ahem!" Arthur cleared his throat with a rather obnoxious tone, desperate to catch the attention of at least one of the incompetent fowl. "Pay attention and quit interrupting! Now, really, Im Yong Soo… No one else needs to bloody know about what you have or have not invented. Moving on… The patriotic archbi-"

"A-Aah! Yong Soo, please stop!" complained the dodo, flinching away as the eaglet began advancing upon his lithe form, hands possessively against his chest. "I don't have breasts, and even if I did, they would _not _be yours!" To Lovino, the dodo seemed, perhaps, the sanest of the bunch, be it possible. He was by far the slightest, as well as the shortest in height, though something about him gave off an aura of resolute maturity. "Well, if you don't mind, Arthur, I think I will take it from here. Not that your story wasn't interesting-"

"Kiku, it was downright confusing…" mumbled Im Yong Soo, backing away in defeat from the Japanese dodo.

"-It's just that… well, I believe there may be a more practical way to do this." Kiku rose from his spot on the shore, turning to face Lovino, who had begun to knead his knuckles in the thick, warm sand out of complete boredom, droplets of seawater streaking down his pale, fleshy cheeks. "If you'll be willing to join us, I suggest we have a Caucus-race."

"Ugh, this sounds demanding…" the Italian said, voice strewn with tedium and desperate melancholy. So much for seeking out his not-so-beloved brother. "What in the hell is a Caucus-race?"

"Er… well, Lovino, I'm afraid it's not something that can be easily explained. Perhaps if we demonstrated first?"

The man-in-dress nodded reluctantly, sitting well out of the way for whatever scheme these bird-brained fowl had in mind. Kiku gave a curt nod to his companions, signaling for them to begin.

To say the least, it was downright, _detestably_, sloppy. Each of the Asian birds, one by one, commenced to circle the dodo, with one beginning while two others came to a halt, and each moving at varied paces from those around them. Yao ended up colliding with Arthur thrice, which had caused Kiku to topple over as well during one instance… Lovino had honestly lost track of how often Yong Soo had rammed into Kiku, though he doubted that one to be accidental at times. All in all, the Italian felt awkward and mildly disturbed, so he took the initiative and, whilst the others were preoccupied with their unproductive quarreling and circling, Lovino turned tail and fled for dear life, stumbling once or twice over his own two feet, which were snuggly clamped in a black pair of dress shoes. _Those weren't there before! What the fuckin' hell?_

"Hey, wait up, aru!" called the lory, pursuing the Italian with a peculiar sort of interest in the cross-dresser. It wasn't often that Yao had received the opportunity to converse with such a bizarre type of person, and wished to enjoy it to its full extent. He caught up with Lovino exceptionally quick, tugging him back gently by the sleeve. "You're still sopping wet, aru! And Arthur brought some comfits. You _are_ hungry, right?"

Lovino's stomach replied in an unwilling complaint, grumbling and gurgling in sheer starvation. In truth, he had been entirely negligent towards his famished state, though now felt the bitter emptiness within his gut. "Well, I-"

"Come on, then, aru!" Yao brushed off a clean spot in the sand for the Italian before taking his place beside Kiku and Arthur. His voice lowered suddenly, exchanging a wink with Lovino about a completely-aware Briton. "If you keep eating, he'll forget about rambling on about his history. They may taste something horrible, aru, as Arthur can't cook to save his life."

"Heh. It's death by historical overload or food poisoning; either way, you end up regretting it later." Im Yong Soo chuckled slightly before biting down brutally onto a comfit, or at least attempting to, as it had somehow earned a black shade and an unbreakable outer shell. "Um…" he mumbled, knocking the food item rather forcefully against a rock beside his knee. "I think I'd prefer the history. Actually, considering I'll die either way, can someone just stab me now?"

"You'll eat my food and listen to my historical glory whether you like it or not!" Arthur demanded, showing no signs of heartbreak at the harmful words directed at him. His vivid eyes, light from above casting an emerald gleam upon their pools, darted towards the Italian, a single thick eyebrow raised in inquiry. "Perhaps this young… er… man, would like to hear of my escapades?"

"O-Of course I'm a man, you mouse-bastard!" Lovino retorted, though his voice attained a much whinier tone than originally intended. "And I couldn't care less about your history, to be honest!"

"Why, I never!" Arthur's face glowered, eyes narrowed and corners of his mouth plunging downward in a frown. "You truly have the stupidity, the _ignorance_, to insult the English past? All of you, could you have any less respect for what _really_ matters in life?"

"Hey guys!" Yong Soo exclaimed, face a strange cross between horror-stricken and ecstatic. A single comfit settled in his palm, partially-chewed and sopping with rust-colored saliva. "I finally chewed through one! I chipped my beak, though…"

Arthur's eyes widened, mouth agape in perplexity. Tail flailing about in fury, the Englishman, blushing a furious scarlet, huffed away, shouting various curses as he fled in humiliation.

"Aw, too bad he couldn't stay, aru." Yao placed his chin in his palm, tucking a few loose strands of mocha hair behind his feathered ears. "Ah, well. This just goes to prove that-"

"-That losing your temper has its consequences?" Kiku inquired, kneeling deeper into the sand.

"Nah!" Im Yong Soo retorted, tossing his bloodied comfit behind him into the sea. "It proves that comfits were invented in England. Nothing so horrendous could ever have been invented by me!"

Lovino sighed, rolling his eyes at his deepening headache. "Oh, this is all that damned Francis' fault! If he hadn't stuck me in a dress and dumped me in some godforsaken park-"

"Who is Francis, exactly? The name does ring a bell, aru…" Yao questioned, face twisted into that of a pondering child.

"Oh, he's this perverted wine-bastard, from back at home. That mouse with the stick up his ass has one good point; never trust a Frenchman."

"Oh, he's… he's French, you say?" Kiku coughed into his fist, motioning for the other to follow him. "If… If you'll pardon us, Mr. Lovino-!" And with those final words, the Asian avian spread his great wings and… well, shabbily trotted away (he _was_ a dodo, after all), followed close behind by a flustered lory and a slightly disconcerted eaglet.

"Oh, great. Are the French cursed in this world or something? Now what?" he asked himself, releasing a weary sigh and trudging onward into the woods beyond, shadowed beneath a veil of towering trees. Oh, now what was he to do with himself? His brother was gone, probably _getting some_ from that potato-bastard… Oh, what did his brother _see_ in those forsaken wursts? Following a few minutes of aimless walking, Lovino came to rest at a bulky stone, plopping down atop its cold, rocky surface and placing his head in his hands, utterly exhausted. If only he could receive some sort of inkling that his brother, annoying as he may be, was alright, and out of the hands of that twisted-minded German..

"Ve, ve~!" For once in his pathetic life, his prayers had been answered, for as he gazed up from his mud-caked hands, he caught a glimpse of his rabbit-brother, ears and puff-tail and all, hopping rather madly about in a frantic dread. "Aah! The Royal Family! Oh my gelato and ravioli! Where did I put them? As sure as the sky is green, it'll be off with my-"

"H-Hey, Feliciano!" Lovino shouted, reaching a hand out for his younger brother. Glancing down quickly at his brother's hands, once gloved, he claimed amazement at their bare sight; for, as it seemed, the rabbit-man had lost his fashion accessories. "What, now you've lost your gloves? I swear, it's always something with you, damnit! Last week, it was your white flag-"

"-But it was authentic from Germany! Ludwig gave it to me…" Feliciano piped, gazing down for the briefest of moments before smiling up at his older sis- er, brother. "E-Eh, Lovino! Please help me~! _Pleeaassee~_!" He clung to his brother's periwinkle sleeve, tears of frantic worry streaking his flushed cheeks.

"A-Ah! What the hell are you doing? Get off of me, you- Alright, alright! I'll help you look! Ugh, you're a pain…"

"Thanks, Lovino~! Ve, go on home and grab my spare pair… and get me a fan, too!"

"Hey… what do you need a fan for? U-Uwah, hey! Wait a minute!" he called, but, alas, his brother had already begun a search of his own, lifting up a pebble approximately the size of his middle fingernail and looking under it for his beloved white gloves. "Ugh, you'll never find anything looking around like that…" Swearing a few times under his breath, the older Italian turned around and darted in the opposite direction, as fast as his dress-shoe-enclosed feet would carry him. A bit fearful for what the "Royal Family" had in mind for Feliciano, he skidded hurriedly around the bend, down the dirt pathway…

…And to the ground. "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me…" he grumbled, eyes horror-stricken in disbelief at his rotten luck. His dress had snagged on a freely-outreaching branch, both catching him and ripping the very bottom of the dress off, revealing even more of his most un-feminine legs. Wincing at the slight scrape on his knee, he stood back up, brushed himself off, and continued running.

"Oh, damn it all!"

* * *

A/N: Ah, an update. I haven't much to say this time, except to review and check out my newest AU series, "The Eleventh Hour".

Let's make it to ten review on this story, at least? Please? I'll love you forever! (But not in the creepy Belarus-type-stalker way)


	4. Chapter 4

"He lives…" Lovino stated blankly, amber eyes agape in utter shock as they gawked up at what was presumably Feliciano's estate. "…On a plate?" Indeed, as he averted his gaze downward, the quaint little house, strewn with leafy vines intertwining on their way along the edge of the abode, was sitting upon an excessively large porcelain plate. The outer edge of the platter nearest the pathway on which Lovino stood beheld a slight chip, an intentional flaw created for use as a vessel for the mailbox. Dangling limply down from the uppermost window swung a long rope of entangled spaghetti noodles, assumedly used for an alternative exit route… and, although it looked exceptionally absurd, t'was nothing compared to the other bizarre goings-on of the past twenty-four hours.

A deep sigh emitted from his parted lips, eyelids shutting softly in an exasperated inner lack of motivation. Cracking his left knuckles gently against his right palm, Lovino proceeded forward, strolling up the pathway to the front door, black shoes clacking against the pavement as he did so. Inhaling sharply, the Italian hesitantly willed his hand forward, grasped the brass doorknob- engraved into which was a tomato- and hastily yanked the door, throwing it open. Only then did he realize that said door had been… well, pulled with more willpower than intended, and had broken off of its hinges and into the clutches of the cross-dressing man, admittedly lighter than he had previously thought. Uttering a low groan, Lovino leaned the door gently against the wall beside the doorframe and advanced into the house, which he found to be a bit too small for his liking; he stood a mere five-foot-seven, and yet his scalp was meager inches from the ceiling above. The walls were entirely covered by a tacky mint-green wallpaper of sorts, stained here and there with what Lovino _hoped _was gelato. The entirety of his surroundings was very bunny-esque- particularly the reeking smell, a mingling of rabbit fur and pasta sauce that should never have happened.

_What am I looking for again?_ he wondered, gazing rather imperturbably around the house for any inkling of his arriving purpose. _Oh, yeah, the gloves, and that damned fan of his… what self-respecting Italian carries around a fan? Must be that Japanese bastard's doing… Or the doing of the dodo, whichever fits…_ He clambered up the creaking wooden stairs adjacent from the front door and hurried into the room parallel to the steps, ducking slightly into the bedroom and towards the dresser. Lovino rummaged impatiently through the drawers for the items, to no avail. He stumbled backwards from the dresser, backing clumsily into a vanity sitting beside the doorframe. Amber eyes narrowed at the sight of a pair of lanky white gloves and a fan of gold, sitting so innocently atop the vanity, though they surely mocked him and all his Italian dress-wearing antics from within. From gritted teeth passed a jumbled mutter of curses as he snatched said objects from the dressing table and turned to leave, though the familiarity of a certain bottle sitting just ahead of the looking glass, assumedly threatening him, daring him to urge forward and slug down its contents.

The Italian thoroughly inspected the bottle, scrutinizing its outer labels for any more of those implicative signs he had seen back at the beginning of his little escapade. "Hrm… I really shouldn't drink this. With the way Feli is, that damned Ludwig probably gave it to him, and if it's German, I really can't trust it…" All the same, as he shifted the bottle around and its pearly liquid contents swashed along the inside, his stomach gave a prompt complaint of desire and his tongue weighed down with thirst. Perhaps a little sip wouldn't cause too much of a ruckus…

Sighing once more, he tipped the bottle back into his mouth and slurped down one measly sip, which soon became two, three, and eventually half of the entirety. He placed the half-empty bottle back atop the vanity and cleared his throat, the tip of his tongue flicking out to recover a single drip of the liquid that still lingered on his bottom lip. He grinned victoriously, as it seemed the drink would not alter him in any way or form. Smoothing out the creases in his periwinkle dress, Lovino ensued, strolling leisurely out the bedroom door and into the hallway.

"Ow!" The Italian yelped sharply as his head punctually met the ceiling, his shoulders soon hunching over as his form became much too large for its residency. Within mere seconds' time, Lovino Why-Must-These-Damn-Things-Always-Happen-To-Me Vargas was huddled up in a tight ball inside the compact estate, arm sticking profoundly out the window and foot threatening to protrude from the chimney. At long last, his rapid growth ceased, though too little too late, as the whole of his frame was pressed uncomfortably against the walls of his rabbit-brother's dwelling.

_Ugh! Why does this keep happening? What will it take to give me some damned peace, for once! I should be sitting at home right now, bored out of my mind… This is all that French bastard's fault! Oh, I swear, if I ever get out of this forsaken world, I-_

"Lovino~!" called out an obnoxious voice, one which gave the cross-dresser an appropriate reason to shout aloud in distress, for hopping up the path in a flustered manner was Feliciano the rabbit, meandering here and there in frantic search of his brother. "Uwah! I need to find my gloves soon!" And the bunny's eyes, glazed over with frenzied moisture, gawked up at the arm jutting out from his window and liberated a proper shriek. "V-V-Ve~! Lovino, you're-!"

"Yeah, I'm stuck in your damned house!" Lovino shouted back, patience wearing dangerously thin. "Why would you live in such a small house in the first place? This is ridiculous! And it's so messy- that's completely unlike you!"

Feliciano grinned, a stupid smile gracing his lips. "Ah, well, I couldn't pay the rent back at the tree house, and had to live here. It's a mess because Feliks took the week off for maternity leave."

"Feliks?"

"My maid!" he replied cheerily. "Wait, how could he have been on maternity leave…? Maybe that's why he hasn't come back in a few months… Anyway, we need to get you out, Lovino!"

_No kidding…_ "And how are we supposed to do that?"

The younger Italian screwed up his face in deep thought (or, at least, however deeply he _could _think) and remained like that for a good five minutes. Lovino groaned once more, gnashing his teeth together in frustration as his leg began to fall asleep in a numbing tingle. Feliciano's voice spoke out once more, though it was clearly directed at another being. "Ve, is that you, Vash? Think you can help m-"

"A-Aah! Get away from my house- don't make me shoot!" threatened a new voice, one which Lovino had a bit of trouble placing a face to. In the end, his mind rejected all deep thinking and compelled him to simply listen in on the conversation as a latter decision.

"But we're neighbors! And Lovino's stuck in my house! See for yourself!"

"Hmph. So it would seem."

"Can't you get him out, Vash? Please~?"

Vash remained silent for quite some time, leading Lovino into a state of slight unease. Finally, after about two minutes had passed- though, in all actuality, the man-in-dress knew not how long he had been waiting, as his perception of time had all but ceased to exist since his arrival to this land- the Swiss man spoke, very even-leveled in pitch. "I can, I suppose, but it'll take a much bigger weapon."

"N-No!" Lovino shrieked, somewhat femininely, at the horrendous thought of what this sadistic stranger was implying. "I'm fine! P-P-Perfectly f-fine! Eh heh heh! Just- Just leave me here to-" A hard metal object nudged against his fingers, and a powdery substance trickled over his arm flesh. "No! Damn it, damn it damn it all! Stop, you psychotic bastard! I-"

"Oh, hold still and quit whining like a little child!" Vash huffed, and continued to spread the gunpowder along the oversized arm, which was beginning to tickle from the steady touch of the dusty substance. "I'm not going to shoot you out."

Lovino sighed with relief, feeling a heavy burden lift itself from his palpitating heart. "Oh, thank the gods…"

Vash shook the last of the powder onto the arm and took a swift step backwards, admiring his handiwork from afar. "I'm going to burn the house to the ground."

This casual statement received a responsive shriek from both parties, though Feliciano's was more a yelp of surprise. "Ve~? Burn it to the ground? But I haven't even made my bed yet…"

"Oh, that can wait. If you're going to keep pestering me, the least you can do is help me throw the explosives into the chimney."

Lovino could feel tears of worry prick his eyelids, though he quickly swallowed and shook them away, feeling his heart begin its hysterical throbbing once more. Indeed, as he averted his gaze to the ceiling above, a series of pebble-like objects began raining down from the heaven, presumably by Vash and Feliciano's doing, and gulped loudly as he anticipated the worst. He stole one last glance at the explosives and began to whisper his goodbyes…

… Only for the explosive pebbles to gather at one point in the middle and clump together, forming a single pastry, nearly identical to the one he had seen upon entering through the rabbit hole. His first instinct was to swallow it whole with no questions asked; however, a certain phrase kept playing back in his head, spoken by the Swiss being.

These were _explosives_. Were they really safe to devour? Of course, all the while, Lovino had been trying desperately to convince himself that the drink had been entirely harmless, and this was also hard to admit, so he shrugged off all uncertainties and stuffed his mouth with the little pastries. Certainly, they tasted particularly divine, what with their sweetly-iced frosting laces and little pompoms of some creamy substance, yet as it traveled down his throat and into his stomach, it burned with the bittersweet passion of a nuclear bomb. Thankfully, however, though this burning sensation was incredibly agonizing for a split-second, the feeling dissipated almost instantaneously and he began to shrink down once more, spluttering out virtually ever swear he could think of off the top of his head as he proceeded out the door and into the sights of Feliciano the rabbit and Vash the lizard-tailed/spiked. Said lizard was accompanied by a single young lady, with large guinea pig ears and a puffy tail, clad in a long, olden-style magenta dress with her hair styled similarly to the lizard's.

"There he is!" the guinea pig said softly, hand placed upon Vash's shoulder, the owner of which withdrawing a shotgun from behind him and aiming directly for the runaway cross-dresser. Lovino cried out in alarm and staggered forward, dashing full-throttle into the woods in fear for his life's wellbeing. Not that his life was all _that_ well off as it was…

He continued to run, soon coming to a safe haven behind a few tall blades of grass, as he was still an incredibly meager size. "That was close… What the hell is wrong with all of the people around here, anyway?" he muttered to himself, watching as Feliciano sped by, fretting all the while, as Vash advanced after him, shooting a bullet just past the bunny's left ear and shouting foreign things at him before the two disappeared into the forest beyond. "Hmph. Dumbasses. Now what am I to do? I need to get back to my normal size, then I should probably try and find a change of clothes that will actually fit me. This dress is such a nuisance! Hrm… there's a garden not too far from here, I think. Maybe someone there can help me." He took a single step forward, though soon felt his confidence plummet as he realized one mildly-important fact; he hadn't the slightest clue how to go about his plan. "Great!" he shouted sarcastically, huffing in irritation as he sat upon a fruit of some sort.

And then he heard _it_. That obnoxious, much-too-familiar voice that often plagued his childhood memories, as well as the reason he had attained a rather nasty bed-wetting problem in his youth; the accursed voice of that jackass, as well as the accompanied sounds of a slight barking.

"Lovi~! Nice dress!" called the Spanish bastard, striding up to the Italian in long bounds. Lovino's face reddened brighter than ever before at the thought of his former guardian seeing him in a dress, much like he had worn as a child. How utterly humiliating…

And then he rescanned his eyes over Antonio, only to find that the Spaniard had grown a pair of mocha-brown, half-flopped dog ears and a long, wagging tail that protruded from his rear.

Oh, he would_ never_ be able to let Antonio live this down…

* * *

A/N: Had to stick some Spamano in there, though. I honestly think that's becoming my new OTP. I feel like such a creep… I'm a Spamano fan, a USUK fan, and a bit of a Franada fan… Eh heh heh.

By the way, **I am taking oneshot requests, **as I have nothing better to do. Anyone who wants one, just step right up and tell me via review, email, or message. Be sure to include the basics (rating, characters, genre), as well as any plotline or ideas that you want me to incorporate.

**R&R!****eHe **


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Yeah, those one-shots I promised you? Er, if you really want me to write them, just keep checking back at my new collaboration, "Tears of Venus" under the collab account "L'Alleanza". Both of the requests (USUK and Giripan) will be filled out there. *nods*

Am I the only one who "D'aww"s over a puppy Antonio? ^w^

* * *

Now, I'm almost entirely certain that the majority of you out there would completely gawk at the Antonio-puppy for the briefest of moments before cooing over him and patting him on the head, thoughts centered primarily on things such as "Poor thing!" or "Oh, how precious!".

And _then_ there was ever-vindictive mind of Lovino Vargas. "What the hell do you want?" he grumbled, crossing his arms and stifling back a dry chuckle. The Spaniard really did look ridiculous, what with the ears that flopped over ever-so-slightly near the top and the chronic wagging of the fluffy brown tail. Antonio just grinned carelessly, flashing the Italian a glimpse of gleaming white teeth, a bit more sharp and serrated than those of a normal human being. "Get lost, you idiotic mongrel!"

"Lovi, you're sitting on my prized tomato!" the puppy stated, laughing gently as he reached over to a tomato plant near him and plucked it right off of the greenery with a swipe of his paw-shaped gloved hands. "Not that I mind all that much. Hey, you're pretty small, woof!"

"Of _course_ I'm small, you-" Wait, sitting on a tomato? Allowing his hazel gaze to drift downwards, Lovino, at last, fully comprehended his surroundings. Indeed, he was sitting atop an immense tomato, fingers digging into the fleshy scarlet skin and leaving pinkish peelings stuck in his nails. Eyebrows raising in placid surprise, the cross-dressing man brought his aching, exhausted hand up to his lips. His tongue stuck out from its place in his mouth, swiping out to lick the juice-coated fingers, savoring the tangy flavor brought forth to his taste buds. "So," he mumbled into his hand, placing his index finger into his mouth to suck at the tomato juice that clung to his skin in its sticky manner. "Have any idea how I can get out of this screwed up world?"

Antonio cocked his head to the side in a very canine-esque fashion before yipping shrilly and waggling his tail with much more fervor than before. "What's so screwed up about this place, woof? I think it's great, personally! _¡Hay un montón de tomates!_ And you look really pretty in that dress!" He chuckled once more, biting a mouthful out of his of tomato, juice dribbling from his own mouth rather sloppily and cascading down his chin, dripping down his neck and out of sight behind his shirt. "Mmm…"

Lovino coughed into his fist, resisting the urge to hack at the sight of Antonio's sloppy eating habits. Although he assumed it came with the puppy package, such lack of consumption manners were beyond the normal Spaniard. Perhaps the altered versions of everyone weren't spot-on with their normal counterparts after all. "Look, you disgusting bastard, I really ought to get going now, so if you don't mind…"

Alas, it seemed as though things weren't going to go smoothly- but, then again, when had they ever done so for the unfortunate Italian? As Lovino began his retreat, taking a single step backward, Antonio yelped out in alarm and bore his unwavering emerald stare into the man-in-dress, watching him with the eyes of a skilled hunting dog. "You aren't going anywhere, woof! You haven't spent any time with me yet, Lovi~!" Bounding forward in a single leap, the Spaniard captured Lovino's right leg in a desperate, pathetic cling, as a neglected puppy would its ignorant master.

"A-Antonio! Get off, you idiot! And why do you keep saying "woof" after everything? It's completely-" His voice caught in his throat as his former guardian clung tighter to his leg, pressing his flopping ears against Lovino's knee and coming dangerously close to the bottom of the dress. "H-Hey, watch it, you pervert!"

Antonio whimpered quietly, glancing timidly up at the Italian with glossy eyes. "Lovi~! Stay for a while! Nobody ever visits me…" Another sniff erupted from his nostrils, ears flicking back in gloom. "And if you don't like me woofing, I can say something else! _¡Por favor, quédate conmigo, guau!_

"Ungh! You pain in the ass!" Lovino rolled his eyes, shaking the crying puppy off of his dress hem- oh, how he wished to be back in his own clothes!- and snatching another little tomato off of the ground. Thinking with the utmost speed, the Italian smirked almost maniacally and tossed the little red fruit across the meadow, a hand above his eyes to block the rays of the sun from penetrating his field of vision as he watched the tomato soar…

… And land about three feet away. For what it was worth, Antonio _did_ take the bait, and brought the tomato back to Lovino's hand with a skip in his step as he did so. The cross-dressing man said nothing, made no move, and uttered a barely-audible "damn it…" before sinking to his knees and crying out in frustration. "You have to be kidding me…" He never _had_ had much of a pitching arm, but regardless-!

"Throw it again, _guau_!" Antonio piped, scratching absentmindedly behind his ear with a gloved "paw".

"You know, saying "woof" in Spanish doesn't make it any less painful!" he snapped, scowling as he picked up the tomato (now slightly drenched in Antonio's slobber, sending a shudder of revulsion down the Italian's spine) and threw it once more, managing to throw it a good eight feet this time before Antonio finally caught up with the incessantly-rolling fruit and tumbled clumsily into a bush in the process.

"Ve~? Antonio!" exclaimed an all-too-familiar voice from the bush. "Shh, puppy! I'm trying to hide from Vash! He already flew out my chimney trying to catch me…"

_Oh, god, no._ Lovino grimaced, gritting his teeth in annoyance. The Spaniard was conversing with his bunny-brother, one of his greatest pet peeves- and about lizard-Vash flying out of his chimney, of all things! Although the mental image of the Swiss man soaring into the heavens above from a flue would have given most an uncontrollable fit of giggles, Lovino was no such comedian, and took this opportunity to race away, hands clenching the extra cloth folds of his dress as he proceeded in his departure.

_Well, what now? I'm back at the same, clueless place as last time! This is getting ridiculous. Ugh… what's it gonna take for me to grow back to my normal size and back to reality? I never thought I would miss that damned Frenchman, or Antonio and his non-slobbering antics… I'll probably never get out of this dress, either._ In fact, if it were even possible, he might have admitted to missing Ludwig. _Might _have. Alright, so it was pretty unreasonable to assume that Lovino yearned for that potato-bastard's company, but his thoughts hadn't exactly been all that logical since his plunge down the rabbit hole.

Come to think of it, Lovino had yet to come across the German man in his time spent in this so-called "Wonderland". _More like a Hellish-land…_ he mentally grumbled to himself, accompanied only by the clacking of his mud-caked black dress shoes. Feliciano had mentioned Ludwig time and time again, and yet the older Italian had failed to witness the bizarre animal which the German had to have been. _Hmph. Maybe the potato-bastard's some sort of potato-animal. Hrm, I don't really know any German animals. A dachshund, maybe? Or a badger…_ Lovino snickered into his hand, icy laughter stifled back from its threats to burst from his lips. The thought of Ludwig, the pathetic idiot, wearing a badger costume… Oh, that was rich!

Lovino cleared his throat professionally, lips straightening into his trademark scowl once more before he paused to take a rest, huffing a deep exhale in fatigue. He had sprinted more in that day than any other day of his life, he was certain of this! Wiping his sweat-drenched forehead with the back of his hand, the Italian slumped down into a sitting position, leaning against the stalk of a large (or was he still small…?) mushroom and taking greatly-appreciated refuge beneath its welcoming shade. Oh, if only the terror that occurred beneath the bright, clear sky could compare to the weather of this bizarre land! All in all, the climate tendencies of these this realm were relatively mellow, a serene breeze swaying the extra cloth of Lovino's garbs this way and that, though not at all with violent intentions.

But there would be _no_ basking in the light of the sun- at least, not today. Lovino stared solemnly down at his little fingers, comparatively smaller than the blades of grass upon which he sat. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in aching pain. _Oh, damn it all! How the hell am I supposed to get bigger again? Maybe I need to eat or drink something again… of course, those tomatoes didn't seem to do any good._ A deep groan escaped his lips as he brought his head back to bang it gently against the mushroom's stalk in exasperation. _Wait, the mushroom! Of course!_ All the same, he thought it unwise to simply devour the mushroom without any inkling of what side effects it may induce- and he doubted these were anything at all like the "swollen tongue" or "blue urine" side effects that had arisen with many prescription drug patients- , especially considering what had happened upon his ingestion of those tantalizing pastries back at Feli's residency.

Lovino scowled once more, glancing around both sides of the fungus before shrugging his lanky shoulders and advancing a single step, paralyzed for a brief moment at the sound of two voices that rang out from above.

"B-But, Mr. Karpusi!" whined one soft voice, almost inaudible in tone as it protested against the other being. "You aren't making any sense! And you haven't answered my questions yet!"

"Who are you, again?" mumbled the other voice nonchalantly, much deeper and more audible in pitch.

"I'm Matthew! Oh, forget it! Can you help me or not?" Silence ensued. The gentle voice spoke again, much more hastily. "Hey! D-Don't fall asleep on me! Oh, for the love of maple…"

Lovino arched an eyebrow, lips quirking into a grimace. Just as he had presumed- more uncanny bastards to torment his life just so. Though all of his heart was screaming mercilessly at the Italian, cursing him out beyond the point of return, Lovino had the utmost difficulty in denying himself the slim chance of returning to normal and seeking out the exit to this hellhole, and bit his lip as he groped his way up the mushroom, onto the umbrella-shaped top.

Another creature stood beside him; a dragonfly, it seemed, judging by the gargantuan, mosaic-imprinted wings that spanned translucently behind his lithe form. "Oh, hello. My name is Matthew… not that I expect you to remember." The dragonfly averted his violet gaze back over to the other being, a dark-haired man whose legs had been replaced by a fat grub-like bottom half. "That caterpillar over there is Heracles Karpusi."

"Heracles? A caterpillar?" Lovino mused, yawning in mild disinterest. Nothing really came as much of a shock anymore. "And, what, your some sort of locust or cicada or something?"

"I'm a dragonfly!" Matthew complained, sighing in irritation and placing his head in his palm. "I really should get going…"

"Whatever, grasshopper."

"Dragonfly! And… are you in a _dress_?"

"W-What's it to you, you damned mosquito?" Lovino spluttered, hazel eyes ablaze in humiliation.

Matthew balled up his fists, face reddening identically to puppy-Antonio's tomatoes. He sighed once more, readjusting his spectacles and turning to leave. "Ugh… You're worse than Alfred!" he mumbled, spread his great wings, and soared away.

"H-Hmm…?" murmured Heracles's sleeping form, swatting his hand this way and that as he rolled over in his slumber. A lengthy hookah dangled limply from his flaccid lips, a trail of saliva streaming down his chin as he snoozed. At last, the Greek's eyelids peeked open, jade eyes falling upon the enraged cross-dressing Italian before him. For what seemed like an eternity, the two stared each other down, gazes boring into that of the other man. Lovino's fists clenched tighter, his teeth gritted in irritation. At last, after a good five minutes of the silent treatment, Heracles's mouth opened ever-so-slightly to speak.

"Who are _you_?" he grumbled languidly, a lethargic tone coating his voice.

"What's it to _you_?" Lovino retorted, in no particular mood for mind games. "Tell me how to grow back to my normal size!"

"Are you not your normal size?" the Caterpillar murmured into his hookah, absentmindedly puffing it once more.

"Of course not! What the hell is going on in those screwed up heads of you natives?"

"I don't understand."

"That cockroach had the right idea. Forget you, worthless spawn of Ancient Greece…" Or would it be "Worthless spawn of Ancient Butterfly"? Regardless…

"Hey, come back here."

"Oh, what _now_?" Lovino's face was scarlet all the way up to his ears from the agonizing agitation.

"I have something to tell you. Sit down." Lovino obeyed obediently. "Now, strange woman, don't lose your temper. It's unhealthy. You don't want to obtain birth defects, do you?"

"I-I-I'm not a woman!"

"Why?"

"What do you mean "why", you perverse bastard? Because I was born with different parts! Now, is that all you had to tell me?"

"No." The hookah altered in appearance, slowly at first, until its full length had morphed into some bizarre sort of olive branch. Said twig now drooped down from Heracles' lips, his teeth gnashing down on it idly. "So, you think you've changed?"

"Of course I do!"

"Let's see, so you need to get manly again…"

"No, no! Have you even listened to what I've been saying?!" Lovino collapsed exasperatedly back onto the mushroom, body flopping down tiredly upon the fungal top. "I am a _man_! I have always been a man, and I always will be! I don't need to get further feminized, I need to grow back to the size of a normal hu-"

A rather discourteous snore rudely interrupted his excessive rambling, erupting deep from within the throat of Heracles. "You-! Don't just fall asleep on me! Damn it!" He was cursing much more often than usual, too- possibly another side effect of hanging about in this whacked-up world far longer than intended.

Come to think of it, this was all Feli's fault, was it not? And he had only fled so hastily so that he could meet up with Ludwig… So, did that not make it the German's fault?

All the more reason to intensify his abhorrence of the infamous potato-bastard.

* * *

A/N: Yes, Greece has more lines next chapter. I wouldn't leave out certain parts of the story. ^^

Oh, and sorry if I owe any of you e-mails. My e-mail has been acting rather finicky as of late, doing odd things sometimes. I oftentimes try to send people e-mails with no avail, even though there's no reason why it shouldn't be working. Other times, important mail gets sent to my spam box. Urgh… Anyway, sorry to those of you who didn't receive e-mails (I don't think I've had any problems with any of your e-mails, but just in case…)

_¡Hay un montón de tomates! _– There are plenty of tomatoes!

_¡Por favor, quédate conmigo, guau!_ – Please stay with me, woof!

**R&R! I'm feeling really overworked, with the three series going at once, and need my reviews to keep me going!**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Alright, so I lied. Heracles doesn't have much more of a role… Sorry!

EDIT: I cannot believe how much I have put this story off... I'm sorry! This past week has been hectic for me, what with the sudden Texas snow in late february, many tests, and family stress. Forgive me, beloved readers, for you are so much more worthy of a decent chapter than I can ever hope to give you! Love ya all to bits~! Now, allow me to grovel at your feet in apology... T-T

This chapter is very shortin comparison, so I'm sorry for that too!

* * *

"Well, isn't this just _perfect_?" Lovino sneered to himself, a crazed sarcasm lacing his voice. "I'm stuck in this hellhole, in a damned _dress_, beside a snoring caterpillar-bastard! Things couldn't get much worse, could they? No, they could; I shouldn't say things like that. The last thing I want to do is jinx it... Oh, damn it all!" And, throughout his rampant complaints, Heracles remained silent and slumberous, hookah plummeting to the ground from its place within his lips.

Oh, how simply dandy things could have been, had he the ability to doze off at such obscure moments. Perhaps, then, he would have continued to sleep that morning, as opposed to awakening and chasing off after his brother like a madman. Feliciano himself was bad news enough- but a _rabbit_ Feli? That was just begging for trouble… and trouble he had attained. Lovino groaned in exasperation, slumping down to his knees, still balanced neatly atop the mushroom with his head placed firmly in his palms. Was it, perhaps, a reality- the idea of his confinement in such a loopy, out-of-whack world? It had seemed entirely absurd in the beginning of his escapade, but as he sat atop the fungus, nibbling uneasily on his bottom lip, things also appeared much more like his actuality- the folly of his life back at home wasn't all that different from the idiocy of this parallel.

"You!" the Greek caterpillar proclaimed suddenly, jolting the Italian out of his inner thoughts and ramblings. Heracles remained in a drowsy slumber, though he spoke as a rumbling snore erupted from within. "Recite… _You're Old, Father William_."

"E-Er… okay?" Sleep speaking? Well, such absurdity did seem to run unbridled around such lands. Besides, many times had he overheard his brother mumbling incoherent gibberish in his sleep, assumedly involving pasta or the potato-freak. "Um… _You are old, Father William. You're fat and your teeth have fallen out. You can't hold down a girlfriend. Woe is you."_

Heracles replied appropriately with a blatant snore.

"Hmph." Lovino whirled around, spinning on his heel and directing his gaze to anything which could ever possibly assist him in his time of dire need. His eyes caught glimpse of something out beyond the mushroom- a field of grass, some of which had a lighter green tint, the remainder a darker emerald. "Maybe this'll do something useful." _Yeah, and maybe that potato-bastard will back away from Feli…_

Hesitantly wearing his usual grimace, Lovino slid effortlessly down the sleek mushroom's umbrella top and onto the ground with a _thud_, shoes nearly slipping off of his feet in his hurried rush. The Italian inhaled sharply, bent over ever-so-slightly, and skillfully ripped the blades of lighter grass from their residency upon the ground. His stomach churned in knots at the thought of ingesting such a revolting-looking type of vegetation, but bit his tongue, pinched his nostrils closed, and devoured it whole.

And, with his confidence swelling a bit too much for this cruel world's liking, he soon found himself his regular height, assumedly. But, of course, this is Lovino Vargas, a man with a rather uncanny string of rotten luck, so of course his neck was about twelve times taller than it should be. That was rather typical, no?

"W-Wah!" he shrieked as his neck proceeded to grow, reaching well above the oak trees below. "Damn it! _Chigi!_" The cross-dresser finally ceased in his rampant growth spurt, coming face to face with a rather distressed Latvian pigeon, who managed to soar straight at the Italian's nose.

"A-Ah! A snake!" Raivis shrieked, flapping wildly about in an uncouth approach. "Get away from me, you… you-!"

"What? I'm not a snake!" Lovino snapped, wriggling his nose in discomfort as a couple of feathers danced about his nostrils and tickled ever-so-slightly. "H-Hey, stop that flapping!"

"I said get away from me, foul serpent! I've spent the entire day trying to flee from that mad cat, I don't need a snake after me too!" The Latvian pigeon perched atop a branch, wings raised defensively and feathers standing on edge. "Alright, you leave me no choice!"

"What do you think you're-" Wait, this was a pigeon. There was very little he should be able to do, except maybe peck Lovino to death.

"E-Enough!" Raivis' voice continued to tremble uncontrollably, form shaking in turn with his vocals. "You're after our eggs, aren't you? Well, th-there will be none of that! Off with you! Go on, shoo!" He hopped forward upon the branch, reaching out to peck at Lovino's nose.

"Ouch! Why you son of a-Waah~!" Before he could utter another swear or curse of any sort, Lovino found himself shrinking, and shot the pigeon a cocky, overconfident middle finger before his body returned to its desired height. _This is getting worse and worse by the minute! Oh, the sooner I get out of this hellhole, the better! I miss my normal clothes, I miss my tomatoes… Hell, I even miss the potato-bastard! Actually, no, I don't really miss him much. But I do sort of miss Francis and Antonio… maybe even the real Feliciano. _Regardless, Lovino brushed off the front of his dress and advanced forward, along a little pathway he found just beyond the mushroom patch.

"Hmm? What the hell?" The Italian mumbled under his breath as he came upon a most peculiar sort of dwelling- for, in all honesty, it gave the appearance of an oversized birdhouse, with a rounded door and a long protrusion jutting out just below the entrance. The only difference it bore seemed to be the fact that the doorway was, in fact, shielded by a slab of wood with a makeshift doorknob. "But is it really this big? Or… have I shrunk again…? Oh, crap."

His inner ramblings of cusses and complaints were interrupted by a rapid knocking upon the door before him; a footman, a tall blonde with thin-rimmed spectacles and a rather uptight look on his face, as though he were all-business at the time being. The door was opened quickly another footman, though this one resembled more of a frog than the other, who looked a bit fish-like, though bore similar blonde locks of hair.

The fish-footman stole a quick wink at the other before handing him a memo or note of some sort, written upon with heavily-inked lettering. "Queen's issued 'n invitation, f'r the Duchess, t' play cr'quet." His voice was heavily accented with that of a Swede.

The frog-footman nodded, smiling gently and bowing in turn with the other. Lovino cocked an eyebrow, turning away for a moment. It almost seemed as though they were communicating telepathically or something- after all, no more had been spoken, and yet they exchanged facial expressions like there was no tomorrow, which, actually, wasn't all that unlikely. With the Italian's stroke of luck, the apocalypse would probably strike by morning. Rolling his eyes at the bizarre thought- probably altered by this peculiar world's doings, no doubt- he whirled back around, careful not to completely fall to the ground in those godforsaken shoes, only to find that the fish-footman, the Swedish one, was gone, replaced by the frog-footman who sat beside the door's entrance with his chin in his palm.

Coughing softly into his fist, Lovino took another step forward, timidly avoiding eye contact with the footman, and raising a fist… to rap madly upon the door with the everlasting force of his knuckles. "Hey! Open up in there, jackass!"

"Don't bother," the footman said nonchalantly, observing his dirty fingernails with distaste. "They won't hear you. Besides, I'm out here! I can't come answer the door."

"Then how the hell am I supposed to get inside?" he questioned impatiently, tapping a dress shoe impatiently.

"Hm. I don't know, really. Suppose you could wait outside with me." The frog-footman held out a hand, smiling warmly. "I'm Tino."

"Oh, screw this!" Lovino muttered, slumping to the ground. "This whole day has been nothing but a nightmare! And the freaks that run rampant around here aren't making it any better! Poor, stupid Feli is probably getting German-ified as we speak…" A shudder traveled down his body, raising goose bumps along his aching flesh.

"We'll sit out here for days, and days, and days…" Tino mumbled, staring up at the fluffy cloud blessing the sky.

"I'd sooner kill myself! Argh, damn it all!" Lovino swore, banging a fist against the door and watching as it came crashing to the floor. "W-What the hell…?" he muttered in perplexity. "You mean… the door was unlocked the whole…? Oh, for God's sake…"

Shaking his head, the cross-dresser proceeded into the house, propping the door back upon the doorframe before advancing into the kitchen in horror. A heavy blanket of smoke wafted throughout the air, overtaking the entirety of the kitchen's atmosphere, and a cook was leaning over a boiling pot of soup in the corner of the room. The chef didn't look at all pleased, what with grimace worn upon his frenzied face.

And, sitting in the corner of the room, sat the "Duchess". The figure of the Duchess was silhouetted in the quilted smoke, holding a chirping creature in its arms, rocking back and forth in a chair; however, the Duchess was sitting in a rather awkward position for a woman- legs draped over one armrest, the remainder of her body slumped over the other.

Perhaps that was because the Duchess wasn't a woman at all. Perhaps that was because it was, in fact, more of a Duke, holding a little bird in its arms. Perhaps that was because it had short, platinum blonde hair and piercing crimson-violet eyes.

Perhaps that was because Gilbert Beilschmidt was the Duche-er, Duke.

* * *

A/N: Oh, it's so short! I'm sorry, really but you don't know how hard this chapter was for me to write. I don't really know why, but it was. Please forgive me! T^T I'm so sorry it took so long. What can I say? I have another story right now that's successful, and I've been writing more for that one. I won't give up on this, though, as the next chapter should be fun to write.

**R&R!**


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: A little note- in the actual book, the Duchess does say "Chop off her head!" once. I realize that this is mainly the queen's line, but still felt that Prussia needed to say it, considering his personality.

* * *

"What the hell…?" Well, upon hearing the… _being_ described as a duchess, Lovino had never once anticipated that the so-called female duke would be a _male_. Of course, he himself was suffering from acute gender confusion, what with the attire of choice, but that was beside the point. However, his thoughts and many criticisms of this "duchess" were forced to an abrupt halt upon sudden sneeze detonating from his slightly-flared nostrils, echoing around the bustling room and rebounding off of each wall, carrying out the window and into the world beyond. The bird, in turn, was simultaneously hollering and sneezing- a feat thought to have been accomplished only by the Italians themselves in the many years of old, plagued by disease. Indeed, even the possibly-albino duke himself was expelling air in rapid _achoo_'s.

The cook, whose face was veiled at the moment, hovered over his pot of soup- or whatever freaky elixir he was concocting with all of that pepper- and continued to pour in the spices and heavy black flecks by the gallon, paying no mind to the other presences in the room. The only other being in the room that refused to allow a single sneeze to pass their lips was a peculiar cat-man sitting in the corner of the room, grinning from ear to ear in a seemingly-sadistic smile. Its back, however, was turned, for the most part, shrouding his true appearance from the Italian cross-dresser. All Lovino could truly make out was the long striped tail protruding from a tail-hole at the bottom of his clothing and a long pair of curved cat ears. However, the smiling face, ever-masochistic, peered from over the massive feline's shoulder, a glint evident in his violet eyes that depicted that of the devil himself.

"Hey, duchess?" Lovino said dully, crossing his arms in impatience and short-temperance. "There's something seriously fucked up with your cat."

The duchess-duke-whatever met the hazel eyes of the Italian, threatening each other's gaze to dare waver for the briefest of moments. "Hey, smartass, don't call me a duchess! Where did you even hear that from? I bet it was the Royal Bastard himself, wasn't it? He really needs to learn when to shut his damned mouth… And what makes you think _my_ cat's fucked up, huh? I'll haveyou know that my cat's freakin' awesome! Not as awesome as I am, but still!"

"Right…" Lovino murmured under his breath, sarcasm lacing his voice. "Look, duke-"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt, the awesome."

"No. Duke. Anyway, what makes you think _that_-" The bizarre feline proceeded to grind its curved claws into the gravel flooring below, purring and emitting some other peculiar noise all the while. "-Is normal?"

"'Cause he's Russian."

"Ah." Well, that certainly clarified some things.

"Argh!" The bird in his lap hacked suddenly, spewing out what Lovino_ hoped_ to be the remains of an insect, for if it wasn't- well, he feared what else it could have been. "Damn, you can be such a pig sometimes, Gilbird!"

_Gilbird?_ Okay, this guy was seriously out of whack… even for an inhabitant of this world. "So… Any particular reason why you're blackening this room?"

"Dare you challenge my actions? My accomplishments are all awesome, whether you think so or not- not that your opinion really matters." And, with those final words, a volley of random objects from the kitchen came flying full-throttle at the Prussian's face, narrowly missing the bird's beak in the process.

Where the torrent of china was flying from remained a bit muddled from the view of the Italian, considering the black cloud which engulfed the atmosphere, though he could only assume that the cook over in the corner had something to do with it. "Watch what you're doing, bastard!" he snapped as a small platter brushed the bridge of his nose, barely missing his face. "Oh, why did I bother following Feli this far anyway? Him and that stupid potato freak… Hmph! And if he had never joined up with the axis powers, he would never have met the-"

"Axes?" Gilbert guffawed, rapping his knee with an open palm. "Ah, that reminds me! Servant! Chop off his vital regions!"

"W-W-W-Wha? You-! You insane bastard, get away from me!" Lovino stammered, cringing at the thought. Surely he wasn't serious?

"Ah, gotta love mocking the royalty." The duke held the bird tighter, clenching his fists around the lithe frame of the yellow fowl. The cross-dresser flinched away, a strong discomfort overwhelming his being at the sheer inkling of the infamous royal family- and if either the queen or king castrated people, well, he genuinely feared for both Feliciano's life and his own. Indeed, his blood pumped full-throttle at the sickening mention of vital-region-removal. "Argh, speaking of which, I'm supposed to go do something with his royal pain-in-the-ass, right? Hear, take care of Gilbird." Withdrawing a sigh, the Prussian shoved the bird forward rather violently, forcing the wretch into the clutches of Lovino, and rose from his rocking chair, which Gilbert had insisted time and time again to be a throne. The duke dusted off his pants with a rigorous swipe of skillful wrists, flashed the Italian a cocky grin, and advanced out the door, taking no notice of the footman who still sat against the side of the house.

"Who says I want to take care of the stupid bird?" Lovino grumbled.

Rolling his eyes in dismay, the Italian hoisted the young bird upon his shoulder, holding it rather awkwardly by its scrawny orange foot, and trudged out the door, grumbling incoherent gibberish to himself under his breath. "What did the crazy bastard want with my vital regions, anyway?"

"Oh, he was probably just mocking the royal family, as usual," the cook replied with a smile, soon followed by a hesitant frown. "Either that, or he was sick of having soup for every meal."

"You mean he would've eaten my-? G-Get me the hell away from this house!" Although this comment was clearly intended for no one in particular, the bird, appropriately dubbed Gilbird, responded with a giddy chirp and teetered from the man's shoulder, releasing the faintest _oink _before flapping away madly, paying no mind to the flustered cross-dresser below. "Oh great, now the damned bird's gone! Ugh, that Duchess-Duke-thing better not come back expecting the little omelet."

"Oh~! An omelet?" purred a voice, somewhat unfamiliar to Lovino's ears. Out of the corner of his eye, Lovino caught a brief glimpse of that bizarre feline from just minutes previous, though the cat had obviously transferred havens from the abode to a nearby tree branch in that concise amount of time. "An omelet sounds awfully scrumptious now, da?"

"W-Wah?!" Lovino sprang backwards, stumbling over his ridiculously clumsy, dress-shoed feet and plummeting to the filthy ground below. "What the hell? Where did you come from?"

The cat grinned, swaying a long, muscular arm from side to side, battering at a tarnished autumn leaf with enormous, glove-like paws. "I don't believe it is a question of where I came from, but a question of where I intend to go."

"Um… What?"

The Cheshire cat only grinned more fervently than before, baring his glinting white fangs. "If I told you where I came from, I'd have to kill you." A giddy laugh escaped those smirking lips, prompting a cringe from the Italian's direction.

"U-Um… right… Look, cat-"

"Ivan, Ivan Bragins-"

"Whatever. Look, Ivan, any chance you could point me in the direction to go?" Indeed, this had been an inquiry that he had attempted to ask many times that day, to a variety of different creatures, he might add. But, alas, his futile attempts were just that, and he had eventually wound up in his current position, surrounded by this atmospheric folly.

"Well… I guess that would depend on where you want to go, da? But, really, why not stay and chat? I'm sure we could find _plenty_-" At that word, his claws unsheathed, flexing every muscle with each dexterous finger motion, "-to talk about. I can engage in very _intense_ conversations, you know."

Another flinching tremor jolted down the spine of Lovino Vargas, who had taken a half-step back before regretting the consequences which may accompany such a decision. "If you could just… tell me who, exactly, lives around this madhouse-"

"A madhouse, you say?" Evidently, though Lovino failed to see exactly _how_, that statement had been undeniably hilarious, and prompted a sickening giggle from the sadistic feline's mouth, and Ivan's accent seemed to thicken as he slinked down from the branch and onto the ground. "Ah, eh hah… Well, down that road lives a Hatter." He then proceeded to motion his paw towards the opposite path, still managing to stifle a deep chortle. "And in that direction lives a March Hare. Really, though, neither one are all that interesting. I would much rather you stay here with me."

"E-Eh… I think my schedule is a bit too busy for that… Tell me, though, are the Hatter and the Hare both mad as well?"

"Of course they are! I'm mad, you're mad!" However, by the time those words escaped the feline's smirking lips, the cross-dresser was already staggering back towards the woods, following one of the paths pointed out by Ivan. Giving one more little chuckle, the Russian-Cheshire cat waved a paw out in riddance, slowly dissipating from view. As the ever-grinning mouth, the last thing to depart, began to fade as well, it shouted back to the Italian, "We're all mad around here!" before vanishing from sight.

Lovino blinked a few times, assuring himself that his own inner madness had not drawn him to believe that the feline had disappeared. But, as it was, Ivan had, indeed, gone astray. "Well… now what? Hm… The hatter or the hare? Well, I've had my fair share of rabbits today… but, still, with some random hatter amongst these freaks of nature, can it really be trusted either?" And, in that moment, it dawned upon Lovino that he was, in fact, talking to himself out loud. "D-Damn it, I'm not mad! Argh!" Oh, wait, he was doing it again…

"You know, you really shouldn't go around talking to yourself like that." Ivan reappeared before the cross-dresser's hazel eyes, catching him by the utmost surprise and earning a booming shriek from the man-in-a-dress. "People will think you've completely lost your mind. And we wouldn't want that to happen… da~?" Lovino dared to allow his eyes to blink, only to have them reopen to the feline disappearing once again.

_I'm really losing my mind, huh… I gotta find Feliciano and get out of here._ Thankfully, he was at least thinking within the barriers of his own mind again as he sauntered aimlessly towards the direction of the March Hare's house. After ten minutes of walking and complaining about his aching legs, Lovino caught sight of the hare's humble estate- a towering home with a chimney that resembled bunny ears and cascading locks of blonde hair tumbling down from its roof.

"I swear, if this freak ends up being more raving mad than the hatter, I'll-"

"Swearing is a nasty habit to begin," Ivan chided, that recognizable grin still planted firmly upon his face. Really, hadn't that cat's cheeks begun to hurt from that incessant smiling? Wait… the cat? And surely Ivan wasn't carrying a knife in hand?

Lovino tumbled to the forest floor once more, a terrorized scream emitting from his chest. "G-G-Get away from me, you-"

But the feline was already gone, as was the knife.

Perhaps he truly was hallucinating.

"Oh…" So, as usual, he uttered the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh, damn it all!"

* * *

A/N: Alright, this took way longer to get out than I had planned. I can only beg for your forgiveness I suppose… Well, I was without Internet for about a week, but still! I'm sorry~!

And many thanks to the few of you who are actually reviewing! I am forever grateful!

**R&R… please?**


	8. Chapter 8

As the ever-cantankerous Lovino Vargas proceeded forward along the pathway that curved around the peculiar house, a certain sense of regret and lament struck him hard in the gut. Suddenly, it was as though his decision to visit the Hare as opposed to the Hatter had been a rather… well, stupid one. Nevertheless, he wouldn't be one to allow this foreboding of sorts to screw around with his plans for escape from this wretched world, wherever the exit back home may be. In all honesty, he wanted nothing more than to be back in Italy, cleansing under the warm comforts of the shower and eventually laying down for a hard-earned nap. But, alas, such desires seemed a bit unorthodox in this turn of events, so he advanced on without (outwardly) complaint.

Indeed, as he took a couple more steps forward, stumbling a few times more in those godforsaken shoes of his, a group of odd beings all crowded around a long wooden table came into view. Upon said table were English sets of dinnerware, as well as many teacups and a kettle. The three creatures in question seemed bizarre enough- until Lovino caught a glimpse of one of them in particular. "Hey!" he shouted, catching the attention of all three figures. "Aren't you that mouse I met earlier?"

The Dormouse allowed his head to rise above their spot on the tabletop, a heavy crimson heat overwhelming his flushed cheeks- Lovino could only assume the rodent-man was drunk. "I dunno wha' yo'r talkin' 'bout!"

The Hatter met the gaze of the Italian and instantly softened his expression, blue irises ever-luminous in the glow of the sun above. "Ah, hello,_ mon cher_! Please, take a seat, young lady!"

_Oh, no… Oh great heavens above, no!_ And, in that span of ten seconds, Lovino mentally conjured more swears and curses in his head than anyone could ever hope in uttering. The Hatter was _French_? And, to make his life more hellish, he bore a striking resemblance to Francis, the Frenchman who had stuck him in the freakin' dress in the first place! He would have turned tail and fled, had his desire to return home not forced him to stay. Hesitantly, the Italian took a reluctant seat at the end of the table, only for the other three to promptly bounce on over to him- well, the Hatter and the Hare bounced, the Dormouse sort of… fell over… Regardless, they took the seats directly beside him on either side.

Francis reached forward and forced Lovino's hand into his, the Hatter's eyes gleaming dangerously. "Oh, you could be so pretty, my dear, if you just-"

"I'm a man, you idiot!" With that, the cross-dressing man whisked his hand away from the other's grasp and slapped him upside the head, earning an echoing bellow of laughter to spurt from the mouth of the March Hare.

"Aah, ha ha! That's…!" After about a minute or so of persistent giggling, the Hare straightened himself up a bit and gave a little salute in the other's direction, though did so much too lackadaisically for it to be considered a significant motion. "Aah… I'm Alfred, by the way! Alfred F. Jones!"

Francis rose from his spot upon the ground and back onto the chair, grabbing the Dormouse off of the table and forcing him in between him and Alfred, allowing them each to lean an elbow on the rodent's snoozing back. "So, my friend, what seems to be the problem?"

"The problem?" The March Hare, presumably American by his attitude, scowled, a pout forming upon gloomy, if not a bit melancholic, lips. "Francis! I asked you to get a hat for my house, and you gave it hair instead!"

"Why, what's wrong with that, _mon ami_? Now your estate can have long, flowing locks of blonde hair, and it didn't cost you any extra!"

"It looks like your hair, though!" Alfred whined, leaning more weight upon the Dormouse, earning a prompt groan of irritation on the rodent's part. "C'mon, Francis! Fix it!"

The Frenchman uttered a slight sigh before lifting his teacup in the air. "Ah! It's empty! Go on, then! Let's go! On to the next seat!" Before Lovino could fully comprehend (or care) about what exactly the Hatter was implying, he found himself being hoisted off of the cushion by both Francis and Alfred and forced over to the next row of seats surrounding the table, despite his consistent protests and swears directed at the two meddlers. "So…?"

"Lovino," he murmured with a scalding glare.

"Lovino…" Francis waggled his eyebrows thrice before continuing on. "Answer me this- how is a raven like a writing desk?"

"Neither one are very interesting. Now let me go, or tell me where I might find a certain white ra-"

"Wrong! Let's try another one! How is the reproduction of a fire like the reproduction of a human?"

Lovino opened his mouth to protest, yet found himself shutting it once more at that statement. Wait… the answer could only be- Oh, there was no way in hell he was going to say that one! Fat chance!

"Ooh, ooh! I know this one!" Alfred waved his hand wildly about in the air, flailing his fingers every which way to catch the attention of the Hatter. Francis merely ignored him and looked on expectantly at the Italian.

"Look, perverted Hatter, I'm not answering that question. Now, tell me where the White Rabb-"

Alfred uttered a rather booming gasp and stood up from his seat in excitement. "Ooh! I used to know a rabbi! I think so, anyway… Hmm… Whatever happened to him…?"

Lovino snorted, scowling as he crossed his arms in impatience. Oh, surely another day in this damned place would drive him absolutely batty! Of course, he wasn't entirely sure how many days, or even how many minutes, had passed since his arrival in this (anti)Wonderland. "Seriously, though, I could have sworn I'd met you earlier," he mumbled, turning his attention back to the ever-drunken Dormouse. "Unless all of you mice have freakish eyebrows."

"What, don't you know?" The Hatter tapped his fingers against the tabletop, grinning devilishly in the other's direction. "All rodents are British, because all Brits are rodents." His devious smile fell for a moment as he noticed the state of being of the Dormouse. "Oh, look, he's fallen asleep again." Francis grinned once more as he reached for the kettle, pouring a dribble of scalding Earl Gray onto the Briton's nose, stirring Arthur ever-so-slightly.

"_Bri'ish roden's_ my arse!" The English rodent continued to slur on his drunken spewing of words in his drowsy condition, almost unable to sit up straight without toppling over onto the ground.

"So," Francis continued, paying no mind to the American Hare, who was preoccupied in stuffing his face with bizarrely-teal hamburgers. Eh, only in Wonderland. Burgers can be whatever color they friggin' want. "Have you guessed the answers to my riddles yet?"

Lovino grimaced, the rather rotten thoughts associated with those riddles coming back to his head. "What's it to you? Who cares if a fire reproduces like a human? Who cares how a writing desk is like a pigeon-"

"Raven."

"Whatever! I don't give a shit, and I don't have time for-"

"Ah! Time!" the French Hatter exclaimed suddenly, startling the Italian into a somewhat frenzied state. "How dare you speak of time like that? Is it not time that allows us to blossom into our bodies' full potential? Is it not time that progresses a lustful sense into something far more? Time is the one who tells us when to get up, and when it's time for dinner."

"Dinner?!" Alfred cried out in sheer happiness, walloping the Dormouse a bit too roughly on the back. "What's for dinner?"

"No, no, Alfred. Just go back to eating. Now, where was I…?"

"Something about a guy named Time? But, really, I can say honestly that I don't give a crap, so-"

"Ah, yes~! You see, I attended the great concert with the King and Queen themselves, and I had to express my joy and loyalty through some form of talent. So, what better way than to strip down and give them a little glimpse of what they've been missing out on? Ah, the passionate cries that erupted from my Queen's vocals… Well, needless to say, the Queen isn't the brightest of sorts, and declared that it was to be, well… off with my vitals, as I was killing Time. I know, horrendously sinful, isn't it? And, here we were banished, to drink tea at tea-time for an eternity…"

"I'm bored, Francis~!" Alfred whined, wiping off the last few crumbs of tealburger from his upper lip as his long, floppy hare's ears bobbed to and fro. "Let's talk about something else!"

"Oi, 'ou damned Am'rican!" Arthur raised his heavy, lead-weighted head from the tabletop to face Alfred with a scowl. "C'n't you e'er lea'n 'ome pro- _hic_- per re'pect? A'ter all I've 'one fer 'ou, you 'till 'oose to-"

"I'm so hungry~!" With those final words, the March Hare proceeded to follow everyone else to the next row of teacups, chomping down on the little plate before him. Literally, devouring the plate whole. As he and Francis continued to idly talk amongst themselves, Arthur began to dose off once more.

Lovino remained silent, deathly silent, as he tiptoed lightly away from the scene, watching as the two strangely-crazed being began to dunk the Briton's head into the enormous kettle. _Finally! God, that Francis was almost worse than the normal one! What freaks of nature!_ Not that running around clad in women_'s _clothing from the late 1800's and a pair of dress shoes was entirely how nature intended…

Regardless, he retreated into the woods beyond, still peering around in interest for his rabbit-brother, the ever-scampering Feliciano. And, as he turned the corner, he did, indeed, spy a little waggling puffball jutting out from a bush. "Heh heh heh…" he snickered, crouching low and reaching cautiously for the tail. _Almost…_

And the cotton ball soon met his hand, prompting an "Uwah~!" of terror from Feliciano, who shot up from the shrubbery in absolute alarm. "I'm sorry Ludwig! I'm sorry Ms. Queen… er, Mr. Queen? Whatever you are! Please don't chop off my vital regions! I-" And then the dense, the oh-so-very-dense rabbit spun around to face his captor, meeting the victorious gaze of his older, human, cross-dressing brother. "Ve~! Lovi, what are you-"

As those final utterances passed those bunny-lips, passed the painted-on whiskers, Feliciano shrieked once more and fled out of sight, soon followed by a rather playful looking canine, if not more dense than the younger Italian, that was Antonio. Surely the stupid puppy wasn't still chasing off after Feli? Honestly, could there be a more ludicrous pair of men in all of reality? Not that any of them were living any sort of reality by today's standards, but that was beside the point. The Spanish canine halted for the briefest of seconds, shooting the older Italian a brief smile with another "Guau~!" before bouncing off after Feliciano, barking in a Spanish-like manner all the while.

"Hey, get back here you two! Oh, damn it, not again!" Lovino squeezed his eyelids shut tighter, grimacing behind gritted teeth about what he was going to attempt. Well, now what? Did he follow in pursuit of his rabbit-brother and the idiotic dog? Or did he say "to hell with it" and wander aimlessly on his own again? Well, as he weighed the two options more and more between his hands, he realized that his hunt for Feliciano and Antonio would be in vain, lest he was to chase them that very moment. Foolishly, without any further consideration, Lovino Vargas staggered hurriedly after the two that had just passed, swearing mentally all the while.

He knew not how long it had been since he began running, for he seemed to be springing around in irregular circles, with every corner and every last inkling of the forest looking downright identical. A lazy, exhausted sigh passed his lips, which had begun to chap, as he slumped down against a shrubbery, wiping the back of his hand against his forehead in a heated fatigue. And, in all of his persistent searching, he never did come across any sign of Antonio or Feliciano.

If only Lovino had taken a glimpse of the garden just ahead before he leaned back against the prodding bush and allowed himself to drift into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

A/N: Eh, what with school and the like I've had trouble updating this. But, hey, I've been productive elsewhere- I'm starting my first slideshow, and I've been working on a background companion to The Eleventh Hour. Please forgive me, yet again… Sorry if I'm being too apologetic. I've always been like this…

**Lore out!~ R&R! **


	9. Chapter 9

_Oh, hell no…_ Lovino thought somberly, casting a sidelong glance at his surroundings as the Queen's glorious castle grounds came blatantly into view. Adding a decorative trimming to the many, vast brick walls that surrounded the main building, a vine-like trail of crimson roses spread like wildfire across the long expanse. Or, perhaps, they were not as red as they appeared- for, looking more closely at their intricate leaves, they had been encrusted over by scarlet paint, which had begun to chip on a few of the budding flowers. Indeed, directing his gaze curiously down the wall's breadth, the Italian spotted a few men painting each of the roses the deep ruby hue. Sure, it was a bit peculiar- for one thing, the men were dressed like playing cards, and painting roses is considered by most to be quite strange- but nothing came to a surprise to Lovino. After all, this was the infamous Queen's castle- if anything, she and the rest of the royalty were probably more bizarre than the remainder of the people who lived around this area.

The three card-men down at the wall were a bit flustered-looking, if not completely disheveled. One of them, in particular, caught Lovino's eye as being a familiar face, perhaps someone he had seen before. Upon closer inspection, he recognized the facial features of Raivis, that bird that had flown past his head so many hours previous. Yet this one bore no wings at all- it was all quite peculiar, really… Regardless, Raivis was hanging about the garden, alongside two older-looking men- though all looked equally bewildered- with a paintbrush in hand, staining each of the beautiful white roses a darker shade of red. Of course, Lovino had never been a huge fan of roses, mostly associating them with Francis and all of his meddling schemes…

"Hey, one of you!" the cross-dressing man called out, staggering ungracefully over to the three card-men. Raivis flinched as though a raging bull had just run head-first into his middle, one of the other two cringed a bit, and the other gasped in surprise. Unfortunately, in all of Raivis' flailing, he managed to knock the brunette, which in turn made him ram into one of the paint cans, though it was luckily caught by the tallest before it all spilt out and stained the lush grass identically to the flowers.

"Be a little more careful, Toris…" the blonde number Two card muttered, re-stabilizing the paint can.

"Not like I could help it, Eduard…" muttered the number Five card, frowning a bit. "Raivis bumped into me!"

Raivis merely grinned, clearly not understanding that he had just been insulted directly. "Ah, that's right, I need to be more careful… the Queen threatened me last night, and then Ivan started-"

"Shh!" Toris hushed, abnormally quiet. "Don't say his name! He'll hear you and pop up again!"

"I probably shouldn't bother asking, but why are you painting those flowers?" Lovino interrupted, cocking an eyebrow in question.

Eduard glanced this way and that in apprehension before replying shakily. "Th-This was supposed to be a red rose tree, but Raivis here accidentally planted a white one-"

"Hey, I-"

"Not now, Raivis. Anyway, if the Queen found out, it would be off with our heads… or our vitals… or our-"

"She's coming!" Toris remarked swiftly, collapsing to the ground in an obedient bow, soon followed in actions by the other two cards. Lovino merely stood there, arms crossed across his lack-of-chest, shaking his head in amazement at the absolute cowardice of these pathetic civilians. Why, it was nothing short of-

And then he made the mistake of turning around, coming face-to-face with the approaching King and Queen of Wonderland- though which was which was incredibly hard to figure out. Sure, there was a female, but the male seemed a bit flustered and pompous himself. Wait… the familiarity of those faces-!

"Wait… the King and Queen are _Roderich _and _Elizaveta_?" Lovino muttered, a stifled laughter erupting from his already-trembling chest, and before long, he could resist the urge to guffaw no longer. Clutching desperately at his sides, Lovino burst into a ridiculously-loud fit of snickers, halted only by the sudden breeze blowing his dress up a bit further than comfort allowed. Well, if that were the case, then Roderich most certainly _could_ be the Queen- after all, had Elizaveta not once thought herself to be a male as a child? Regardless, the two royal beings cast somewhat taken aback glances at the giggling Italian standing before them- well, many would assume them to be alarmed at the fact that this man was cross-dressing, but this was Wonderland, after all.

Roderich walked a bit swifter than his female companion, therefore approached Lovino before she did. "Who is this?!" he demanded, face flushed a beet red in all of his embarrassed huffing. Yeah, no doubt about it; this was the Queen- the one with the stick a bit too far up her- er, _his _ass. The Knave of Hearts, a man who looked unfamiliar to Lovino, merely grinned and nodded, while bowing his head a bit in respect. "Oh, you idiot!" Roderich snapped, wiping sweat beads from his forehead with the base of one of the servants' palms. "All of this that I have to deal with-!" Releasing a monotone sigh, the Austrian man returned his attention to Lovino, who had thankfully given up all of his laughter and instead stood before the royalty with his arms folded over his chest. "And who might you be?"

Well, his voice couldn't have sounded much more uninterested. "Lovino Vargas, not that it should really matter." Eh, they were all only a pack of cards- he saw absolutely no reason to act kindly towards them. Who in their right mind showed respect to a playing card?

"Why of all the rude-! Off with her-!" Roderich began to declare, before Elizaveta tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Roderich?"

"What?!"

"That's a man. Please, I'm sure he means well- just look at the state he's in! He's clad in a torn dress, for goodness sake!"

Roderich snorted, rubbing his temples in aggravation. "Fine, dear, fine! I need some aspirin… Hey, you three!" He pointed a finger accusingly at the gardeners lying on their stomachs, and Lovino could have sworn he saw the steam of fury bellowing out from his ears. "Get up, all of you!" Raivis, Eduard, and Toris all obediently obliged. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Y-You see, sir," Eduard responded, bowing his head slightly in desperate respect. "We were trying to-"

"Ah! I understand entirely!" Roderich proclaimed, though soon swung into a mood of complete and utter rage. "Off with their vitals!"

Lovino rolled his eyes, sighing in boredom as Roderich continued to blatantly show his wrath. "Seriously, is this guy PMSing or something?" he mumbled, quietly and under his breath but enough for the Queen to hear perfectly well. "Eh, go ahead."

"Please, sir! Save us~!" Raivis shrieked, him and his companions ducking behind Lovino for safety.

"H-Hey, get back!" the Italian stuttered, trying to push them away. "Oh, fine! Hide in here!" Impatiently, he shoved the three playing cards into a nearby flower pot, placing the uprooted plant back atop their heads and shielding them from the views of the Queen and her soldiers.

"Are they castrated?" Roderich questioned, yawning exhaustedly into his hand.

"Yes, sir!" one of the men responded, saluting dutifully.

"Good, good… Hmm… Ma'am- er, sir?" the Queen interrupted, cocking a curious eyebrow in Lovino's direction. "Care for a game of croquet?"

"Croquet? Do I look like a Brit to you?" the cross-dresser replied rudely, all too fed up with this situation. "Fine, whatever."

"Then come on!" Elizaveta said cheerily, beckoning him to join the procession.

Lovino sighed once more, shaking his head and instantly regretting the decision to join in the croquet match. Ah well, at least his rabbit-brother would be around, as opposed to the Southern Italian chasing his frantic sibling around like a rampant maniac. Speaking of which, Feliciano now stood right beside Lovino, smiling gleefully in his direction. "Ve~! What a great day for croquet~!"

"Yeah, I guess," Lovino replied indifferently, casting a sidelong glance at the White Rabbit. "Antonio finally leave you alone?"

"Yeah, he found a nice Hatter to play with!" Feliciano's smile faded, if only for a bit, as he reminisced. "Of course, he did gaze back at me with those sad puppy eyes… Oh, I hope I didn't hurt his feelings!"

"I'm sure he'll live." Lovino shrugged, assuming the Spanish puppy would be no different than the idiot in his own world. Of course, this roused a few more curious questions to come up regarding the companions of his former guardian. "Oh yeah, what about that Duchess-Duke guy? Gilbert isn't here, is he?"

"Shh!" the Rabbit hushed, shaking his head frantically about. "Gilbert is going to be executed, ve!"

"He's _what_?!" But, alas, before Feliciano could reply, the two came upon the vast expanse of land upon which they would play the sport.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter, but I really didn't feel like including the croquet match just yet. More characters will likely be introduced next chapter, so keep reading~!

**Review, please?**


	10. Chapter 9 part 2

"So…" Lovino mumbled, casting a sidelong glance at the ground, finding it peculiarly interesting at the moment. He then decided to avert his gaze towards the mallets, which were… well, flamingoes, and the ball, which had a similar appearance to a hedgehog. "Wait-!"

"Go ahead! And hurry it up!" the Queen demanded, wincing in head pain.

Lovino grimaced, picking up the flamingo rather awkwardly in his hands. "You have got to be kidding…" As the bird squawked and writhed in his grasp, the Italian lifted the cumbersome mallet above his head, ready to strike the hedgehog with the might of twelve men. Unfortunately for him, the flamingo gave a prompt squawk of complete alarm and flapped about madly, clapping Lovino on the head on more than one occasion with its bony feet. Stupid bird. Before him, many of the players attempted to hit the hedgehog with the bird-mallet, though to no avail, for as soon as they made any sort of motion, the raging bull that was Roderich would all but blow up in their faces, shouting "Off with his vital regions!" and "Off with her head!" every three seconds. The cross-dressing man gulped loudly, hands now trembling in uneasiness.

"Interesting game, da?" questioned a sadistic voice out of the blue. Lovino blinked once, twice, thrice, before doing a complete double take and leaping a mile into the air, chest rising and falling rapidly in alarm. The Cheshire Cat, that devilish Russian freak of nature, slowly began to materialize before him, though only the head decided to reveal itself at the time being.

"What the hell?! Don't do that!" Lovino at last found his breath back, and scowled at the appearance of this nuisance. "Honestly, this game seems really fucked up. What's up with Roderich and his creepy pompous castrating? It's completely-"

"So… you don't like the Queen then?" Ivan asked, head cocked to the side a bit in curiosity.

"Who are you talking to?" Elizaveta approached from behind, casting a questioning glance at the man-in-dress with a little concern upon her face. After all, this man seemed to be talking to no one in particular, as she had failed to notice the floating Russian head lingering about.

"This is the Cheshire Cat. Don't bother asking why his head is floating- he's Russian."

"Ah." The King nodded in understanding, shaking her head a bit. "What a pity. Although… he may kiss my hand if it so pleases his him."

"Sorry, I just ate a bird on the way in, and I'd rather not spoil the flavor in my mouth." Ivan grinned, reminiscing all the while. "Ah, he was such a strange bird, going on about egg-stealing and whatnot. I think his name was Raivis… ah well. You understand, da?"

"Well, that's-" Indeed, Elizaveta appeared to be at a slight loss of words, so she turned her attention to her wife- husband- er, whatever he was. "Roderich, what do you think we should-"

"Off with his vitals!" Roderich said nonchalantly, head directed away from the others the entire time.

"Oh, Roderich, what has gotten into you…?" The Hungarian woman sighed, muttering under her breath, "I'll go get the executioner…"

Without further ado, a bustling crowd of many surrounded the group, mumbling amongst themselves in awe at the floating head of Ivan and his cat ears. It really must have been a sight- although this was Wonderland, the fact that the head was floating about in the air made it all the more interesting and different from the norm. One of them, presumably the executioner, stood before the royalty, arguing rather persistently. "Um, sir, you see… How exactly to you chop off the vitals of a head?"

"Oh, anything can be castrated, I'm sure!" the King muttered, trying her best to comfort the poor Queen, who had begun to moan and gasp, uttering little noises in desperation for a piano.

"I swear, if this argument doesn't end soon, it'll be off with_ your_ vital regions!" Roderich groaned, slumping over in head agony. "How on earth-?"

"Eh, he belongs to that Duke…" Lovino said with disinterest, observing his fingers in boredom. "Just talk to him about it or something."

"The Duchess? He's in the dungeon. Fetch him. Quickly." The executioner obliged obediently, taking off in the direction of the prison. But, at the moment those words had been spoken, Ivan's head slowly began to dissipate once more.

"See you around, da~?" he said, smirking devilishly before vanishing entirely.

The King cried out in alarm as Roderich nearly fainted from all of the excitement and hectic goings on of all of this. "R-Roderich! It's gone! Now, all of you!" She pointed a slender finger at one of the soldier as they each nodded in obedience and rushed off as well. "Find that cat!"

"Hey, look!" Gilbert's voice rang out above all else, in all of its obnoxiousness, as the Duke approached with a flaunting rhythm in his step. "It's the cross-dressing jackass! Long time no see!"

"Oh, crap, he's back," Lovino murmured to himself, wincing at the pitch of Gilbert's abhorrent voice. "Yeah… hey."

"So, I see they've finally broken me out of the hellhole. Anything new going on with you?"

"Not really." A silence passed between the two as they walked away from the crowd of bystanders to talk a bit more in private. "Seriously, what's up with Roderich?"

"Don't bother asking- I've tried to figure out what's wrong with his pathetic ass for the past few centuries, and I haven't found anything yet. I think he's just naturally pissed off." Gilbert neared the cross-dressing man, muttering under his breath. "The moral of this? Never poke an angry bear with a stick."

"What, Roderich's a bear now?" Lovino inquired dully, inching away from this ever-persistent Duke, whom he could tell hadn't showered in the dungeon. "And what does that have to do with anything?"

"Morals are important, you know. The moral of your position? Italians are stupid. The moral of mine? Dukes are so awesome that we can torment the Queen without getting immediately executed."

"Oh, shut up, you fa-" Lovino soon found his voice catching in his throat, however, as they approached Roderich himself, who had his arms crossed and a scowl upon his facial features.

"Oh, look!" Gilbert said mockingly, poking the Queen upon the head with a glove finger. "It's _His Royal Majesty! _Quickly, Lovino, bow before his almighty power!"

"Y-You-!" Roderich began, though soon calmed himself and made a restraint. "Listen to me, Gilbert Beilschmidt- Either you or your vital regions are off, so I suggest you take your pick!"

"Sure thing, Roddy~!" he ridiculed in a sickeningly-sweet voice before retreating into the bushes to watch the game.

"Oh, the nerve of that man…" The Queen sighed, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before returning his attention to Lovino. "Shall we get on with the game?"

Lovino sighed, rolled his eyes for the briefest of moments, and nodded, knowing that his vitals would pay the forfeit if he refused. They continued their game diligently, though Lovino soon found that the arches, which had been made up of each card-soldier, were nowhere to be found after a certain point in the game, for all of them had either been beheaded, castrated, or had accompanied the guests to the executioner. In fact, it marveled Lovino all the while that he himself had yet to be taken into custody, thus the reason why he kept his mouth shut, for once. If there was one thing that the Italian showed more than keeping quiet, it was cowardice.

"So," Roderich said, huffing as he slowly began to run out of breath. "Have you ever seen a Mock Turtle?"

"A what now?"

"A Mock Turtle- You know, the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from? Oh, never you mind, I'll take you to see him." The Queen beckoned Lovino to follow, leading the cross-dresser into an open area in which a Gryphon lay, fast asleep. _Oh no… Hell no… It couldn't be-!_

But, indeed, the Gryphon that was lying on its stomach bore blonde hair, slicked back, and a broad build. It seemed as though the Gryphon whom he was to meet was Ludwig.

_The potato bastard! That's the guy Feliciano was so worked up about pleasing? He's only a freakin' bird! Or is it a lion? Either way…_ Oh, this creature was certainly going to pay, and it would without a doubt be a divine punishment.

The Queen nodded curtly in the direction of Lovino before advancing on, presumably fleeing for the croquet fields for some more executing. With her departure, Ludwig peered through once-shut eyelids, meeting the enraged gaze of Lovino Vargas and grimacing, rising from his spot in the sand. "So, I'm supposed to take you to see the Mock Turtle, I suppose?"

"Yeah, potato freak! So you'd better hurry up and get me there, bastard!" Oh, after what this Gryphon had put his brother through, he was going to _pay_, and pay up a decent amount.

"Oh, great…" Ludwig mumbled, rolling his eyes and grasping the Italian in his talons. Regardless of the persistent protests coming from the cross-dresser's mouth, as well as the colorful vivacity of his swears, the German Gryphon soared away, seeking out the Mock Turtle that had been deemed so important.

A/N: Alright, just consider this the second half of the last chapter. Sorry they're so short, but I'm finding this harder and harder to write. This really should've been part two of the last chapter. Sorry~!

**Anyway, let's get some reviews, people~! I have another parody planned after this, and want to know if anyone else would be interested. Sorry, I'm not telling you what it will be a parody of, but it will please some of you out there, I hope.**

**R&R~!**


	11. Chapter 10

… It was only upon further inspection that Lovino noticed one,_ slight_ little aspect about the Mock Turtle- it was, in fact, a woman… and a rather _womanly_ woman at that, for with such vivid eyes and defined curves it surely could not be any sort of man. Short platinum hair hung low in front of bright sapphire eyes, brimming over with tears, shed for reasons entirely unknown to the Italian. However, as she spotted the two approaching, she hastily wiped the tears from her flushed cheeks and greeted them with a warm smile, though remained silent.

"Katyusha." Ludwig spoke gently but with a firm voice. "This is Lovino Vargas- he would like to know your history, if you don't mind."

"My history…?" he mumbled, gazing off a bit distantly as she remembered it all. "Alright, then, listen if you will. I can tell you, however, that it is not one of much joy." A soft gasp racked her (obscenely large) chest as she calmed herself down enough to tell the tale. "Once, long ago, I was a real turtle. I had a sister, Natalia, and a brother, Ivan-"

"Wait, wait… _Ivan_?" Lovino couldn't restrain himself and rudely interrupted her reminiscing. "You mean that Russian cat is your brother?" However a turtle managed to have a brother who was a cat was beyond him.

"Yes, Ivan is my brother. Wait, you know him? How is he? Is he in good health?"

The sudden cheer that laced her voice caused the cross-dresser's eyes to soften bit as he nodded. "Yeah, he's well enough, I guess. A little out of whack, but not unhealthy or anything." At least, as far as things in _this_ world go… After all, what feline back at home would vanish and reappear with such a twisted personality all the while?

"That's a relief… But, yes, I was once a real… a real turt-" And with those final words, she burst into a heavy sobbing fit yet again, Ludwig dabbing at her eyes hesitantly with a handkerchief (seriously, though, Lovino had to wonder where the potato bastard had gotten it from- it's not as though Gryphons have pockets. Surely that wasn't all there was to the story? Had Roderich _really _forced him on this godforsaken ride with the German freak just to hear those six words? Damned Queen…

"Anyway…" she continued at last, smearing the moisture from her face yet again. "The three of us attended school together, and-" Only, upon returning her vivid blue gaze to Lovino, she found that the Italian had fallen right asleep- really, who could blame him, after his hectic day?- and narrowed her eyes, frowning a bit. "I thought you said he wanted to listen?"

"I'm not surprised he didn't. It's just like him to say something like that and fall asleep," Ludwig muttered bitterly, stuffing the soaked handkerchief back into his pocket. "Hey, wake up!" he demanded, thwacking Lovino upside the head with a swish of his long tail. The Italian whirled on him, threatening the Gryphon with blaring swears before Katyusha cleared her throat to interrupt their spat.

"Well, if you find my story uninteresting, perhaps you should tell me a bit more of yours?" she suggested, warm smile returning to grace those fleshy lips. Lovino couldn't help but oblige, with the sweet attitude she was treating him in, and slowly began to recall the events prior to that minute to the best of his ability.

"Wait, wait…" she interrupted halfway through, giggling a bit as she sat down. "You couldn't repeat _You Are Old, Father William?_ Oh, I must hear this- it's not very often we get any humor around these islands. Let's see… um, repeat '_Tis the Voice of the Sluggard_!"

"Jeez, you people are so fucking demanding…" he murmured, scowling as he released a melancholic sigh and obliged yet again.

"'_Tis the voice of Feliciano, I heard him declare_

'_Ve~! You've baked me into a chocolate éclair!'_

_As Arthur with his rum, so he with his nose_

_Loosens up his belt and his buttons, and pours pasta over his clothes."_

Okay, why the hell was that about Feliciano? Why, of all people, his brother? He had never had any sort of genuine connection with anybody, so why was he suddenly associating stories with people in his life? 'Twas it all the fault of this ridiculous world?

"Um, somehow, I don't think that's quite right…" Ludwig commented, eyebrow cocked in complete bewilderment.

"Oh, who asked you, potato freak?" Lovino retorted, crossing his arms over the empty bosom of the dress.

"I'll admit, that's not quite how I've ever heard it." Katyusha smiled gently, patting the furiously-red Italian upon the head. "But I still liked it! Even if it was common nonsense… Ah well! Next verse?"

Nonsense? This whole world itself was nonsense! How dare anybody defy his ludicrous babblings, even if they were completely irrelevant? Sighing once more and gritting his teeth, Lovino inhaled sharply before continuing with the next verse.

"_I passed by his garden, I fucking don't know why_

_And saw Antonio and Francis, getting drunk off of a pie-"_

"This still doesn't make any sense…" Ludwig mumbled, rubbing his head with his eagle-like hands. How exactly did one get drunk off of a pie if a pie was not a drink?

"Maybe we should stop after all… I'm not sure I like where this is going." Katyusha agreed with a solemn nod, rising from her spot on the ground.

Her next actions, however, were abruptly cut off by a sudden noise sounding from the distance. "Sounds like the trial's starting," Katyusha mumbled with a slight sigh. "Go ahead, and have a safe journey. Come visit me again sometime, if you like! We can talk some more… and bring my brother!"

_Not on your life…_ Lovino thought, scowling as he was, once more, forced onto the German's back and off to the palace, where they would witness the supposed trial of one of the civilians.

QQQQQQQQ

The King and Queen of Hearts (aka Elizaveta and Roderich) were seated upon their royal thrones, embroidered with the finest in gems foreign to only Lovino. Feliciano stood beside Elizaveta, mumbling little stupid statements into her ear as she smiled and replied warmly. Nestled within the White Rabbit's paws were a scroll and a trumpet, and upon the table beside him was a rather sizeable dish of tarts, all of which causing Lovino's stomach to churn and grumble with hunger. Nestled atop the King's head was an off-centered powder wig, which, as it sat upon Elizaveta's brow, caused an uncontrollable laughing fit to erupt from down within the Italian cross-dresser, though he soon choked it down and bit his lip to restrain any further mocking.

Twelve jurors were settled within a little stand to the right of Lovino, muttering utterances to one another incoherently to the rest of the building. And, yet, they were all busy, frantically etching things onto their slates with their pens. "They're writing their names down," Ludwig murmured to Lovino, who jumped in alarm at the sudden voice of the German.

"Stupid idiot…" the Italian replied, though Ludwig was unsure if it was directed at him or the jurors. However, as Lovino directed his gaze back at the twelve sitting in the stand, he found that they had all begun to scribble down "stupid idiot" upon their slates. Groaning a bit, Lovino took his seat and massaged his throbbing temples. But, then, as he inspected the jurors more closely, he noticed that he had come across the majority of them in his previous adventures- indeed, there sat Vash the Lizard, searching frantically about for his pencil, and, finding that it had indeed vanished off of the face of the Earth, proceeded to dunk his nail into a cup of ink and engrave his words into the slate, mumbling with a scowl worn upon his face.

"Feliciano!" Elizaveta exclaimed suddenly, surprising Lovino out of his previous daze. "Read the accusation!"

Feliciano grinned widely, puffing on the little horn of his thrice before unrolling the parchment (with a bit of difficulty, Lovino noted) and reading- or, rather singing- aloud its contents. "The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer's day,_ ve~! _The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, and took them quite away~!"

"Call the first witness!" Elizaveta proclaimed as the Mad Hatter entered the room and- _Oh no…_ Every last nerve in Lovino's body felt repulsed beyond relief as the Frenchman entered through the large wooden doors. _Oh, hell, no! I have to get out of here… Crap, the doors are all locked! Alright, Lovino, just calm down… inhale, exha- oh shit!_

"Oh, I am sorry, your majesty, but we are not yet done with our get together." Francis approached the Hungarian, taking her hand in his and pressing a flirtatious kiss to the knuckle.

Elizaveta shook the hand away and crossed her arms. "Be sure to finish quickly after this, then." Following in close pursuit behind the Mad Hatter was the March Hare- that blasted American- and the Dormouse- the drunken rodent, Arthur.

"Y-Yes, I-" However, whatever other gibberish that Francis wished to speak was caught off abruptly by Lovino Vargas, who had begun to grow once again- not intentionally, mind you, he hadn't the slightest idea of why this kept happening to him and no one else.

"Whaa~?" Arthur slurred out, clearly still in a drunken state of being. "H-Hey, quit squeezing, I can't breathe!"

"I-I'm a poor man, your majesty… show mercy, please!" Francis shouted, clinging to Elizaveta's sleeve.

"Seems you're a poor speaker as well…" At those words spoken by the King, one of the guinea pigs- whom Lovino recognized as Lichtenstein- in the jury stand cheered, and was tackled to the ground instantaneously by guards and stuffed into a canvas bag, which the officers then proceeded to sit on top of.

"You may go," Elizaveta said gently, yet held a firm voice all the same.

Roderich, on the other hand, was much more blatant with his anger and temperament. "-And remove his vital regions outside, if you will."

The next witness entered as the Mad Hatter sped out of the room. The Duchess' cook appeared in the doorway, holding a plate of food, though remained ultimately silent.

The King cocked an eyebrow questioningly. "And what, dare I ask, are these tarts made out of?"

"Primarily pepper."

"Rum!" exclaimed Arthur from his spot on the bench, cackling loudly like a madman- a _drunken_ madman.

"Collar that Brit!" Roderich rose from his spot in the heat of the moment, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. "Behead him! Off with his vital regions! Pull every last whisker from his face! And, for God's sake, shave his eyebrows!"

"Oh, never mind…" Elizaveta grumbled, placing a hand on the Queen's shoulder and settling him back down onto his chair's seat. "Call forth the next witness."

The White Rabbit- aka Feliciano- squinted a bit before emitting a little "Ve?" of surprise and calling out, "Lovino Vargas!"

"What the-?" Lovino jolted at the sudden shriek of his name, and in doing so tilted over the jury box with the bottom of the dress, toppling over all of the remaining jurors in the frenzy. "Ah, damn it!" Releasing a monotone sigh, Lovino placed each juror back into the box- though, because he was in a hurry and a bit irritated and impatient with everything, he managed to place a few of them in incorrectly. Vash had been placed upon his head, still scowling and muttering to himself, and a mouse had been placed in the wrong seat, causing mayhem at the little bit of disorganization.

"What do you know about all of this Lovino?" the King asked, twiddling her thumbs impatiently.

"I don't know a single friggin' thing about any of this!" the Italian snapped, crossing his arms. Indeed, those words were now being written onto the slates by the jurors.

Elizaveta sighed, placing a large book upon the stand before her and reading aloud from one of its many pages. "Rule eight hundred sixty-nine states that all persons more than a mile high must leave the court room."

"What? I'm not a mile high! You people are all out of your minds!"

"Nearly two miles, actually," Roderich added, raising an eyebrow as well.

"Why you…" Lovino began, raising a fist and pushing his dress back down, as it had begun to ride up uncomfortably. "I don't even want to be here, you idiots! I've been trying to leave for a good day or so- maybe even more, I have no fucking idea how time passes in this damned world!"

"Oh, just sentence the Knave!" shouted Roderich, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

"Nonsense!" Lovino snapped back, approaching his brother as best as he could with his abnormal size. "Sentencing before the verdict… that's ridiculous!"

"Off with his head!" Roderich now rose once more, waving a finger accusingly at the Southern Italian.

"Try it, bastard!" Lovino flipped him off, ultimately losing his temper with all of the day's obscurity. The pack of cards all roared in irritation, lunging forward and attacking Lovino with all of their might, despite the slight size difference. "G-Get off of me, hey! That's- ow! Damn it, back off!"

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The world that he had been trapped within for so long began to fade from his vision, soon replaced by the temperate glow of the sun above his head, flushing his cheeks with its heated rays of blissful warmth. The familiar feel of grass tickled his flesh from below, its itch a new pleasure to Lovino- for, truly, nothing would ever compare to how horrid that world had been.

"Ve~!" called a distant voice. Feliciano came bounding up to his older brother, grinning from ear to ear at finally finding his brother.

"Wh-What happened? What's going on…?" Surely it wasn't all a dream? The royal family, the stupid German gryphon, the dress… wait, the dress! Glancing down, Lovino caught sight of that same periwinkle dress, draped over his form as I had been in the dreamland. It had all seemed so… bizarrely real…

"We've been looking for you everywhere!" his brother continued, helping his brother up and giggling a bit. "Why are you wearing a dress?"

"Wait, what do you mean "we"? Is someone else here?"

"Ve, don't you remember? We were visiting Antonio, and you disappeared…"

So… wait…

Lovino Vargas was in Spain…

… With his Northern Italian brother…

… In an English dress…

… Put onto him by a Frenchman…

…

And Kiku thought _he_ had culture shock issues…

"Come on, Lovino!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming… Maybe that Spanish bastard will have some old clothes I can borrow." Sighing with relief, Lovino followed after his brother. Indeed, he would admit, the bunny-version of his brother had been just as intolerably tolerable as the normal Feliciano. The puppy-Antonio wasn't horribly irritating, either. But, then, most of the Wonderland versions of his normal companions had been quite unbearable as well… Francis the Mad Hatter, Ivan the Cheshire Cat… Thank goodness it was all ov-

"You called?" Ivan said cheerily, poking his head out of the bushes with a pair of violet cat ears- identical to his eyes- upon his head.

…

…Ah, crap.

**A/N: It's finally over~! I'm so glad to have finally finished this series… Now it's on to The Eleventh Hour and Celeste Mosaique, eh? Ah, my job's never done…**

**First of all, I would like to thank all of you fans out there who took time out of your lives to read this parody- I simply cannot give you thanks enough. *hugs* Sorry it's taken so long too- with school and whatnot, this past month had been hectic. I can only hope that you accept my apologies. Thank you for sticking with me, and for reviewing.**

**Second, I would like to know if you would like to see another random parody from me- like this, but with a different original plotline? I've got many in mind, it's just a matter of executing them. I can tell you that, either way, the main character will be either Japan or N. Italy- I'll probably do the North Italy one first.**

**Thank you again for your patience, time, and feedback! Don't forget to review, one last time! Love ya~!**

**R&R!**


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